Barghest: The Three Heads of Cerebus
by Secret Weapon
Summary: Adam's going to University so Aziraphale and Crowley agree to Dog-sit. You try to do a friend a favour, and the next thing you know it's another one of *those* weeks where the world could end. Featuring Death, ducks and UST with disastrous consequences.


**BARGHEST:**

_THE THREE HEADS OF CERBERUS_

_Aziraphale likes books. He likes the concept of them - thoughts and ideas and stories preserved in ink and paper. He likes the smell and feel of them. He likes how the first time he sees a new book, whether it is old and crumbling from a couple of centuries ago or so new off the printing press that the ink is still wet, it gives him goose bumps. Books are powerful and comforting and he believes that each book contains a small part of the author's soul. _

_If you were to tell him of e-books and downloadable PDF files he would look at you in horror. _

_Books are loyal and truthful and do not tell lies. They have but one story to tell and they stick to it. But while books can tell you their stories they cannot say anything. _

_They don't listen either. While they may have been around for decades and centuries as well they don't know what it's like. _

_Sometimes Aziraphale thinks that if it hadn't been for the Arrangement he would have f- gone mad. He can see his own purpose through Crowley - "I see a wile, I thwart." _

_And it does do Aziraphale good to see Crowley - he is so maddeningly, gloriously alive. Sometimes he wishes he could be as alive as that. So completely in the moment. He has his Duty to think of and he honestly wouldn't have it any other way, but he can enjoy his time with Crowley and his guileless smile and easy charm and Oh God that smile could break your heart…_

_And sometimes Aziraphale wishes … he wishes - _

_He wishes._

_*** _

_It's his best kept secret, but Crowley doesn't like St James's park. He has nothing against the park itself, but he hates the ducks and the geese and other waterfowl. He doesn't like how their feathers and droppings cover the paths and the green spaces. He doesn't like their raucous quacking and honking. And he doesn't like how aggressive they get when there is the slightest possibility of food from passers-by. _

_It's the tourist's fault, he thinks. The tourists and the children and that damned angel. Throwing them bread and crisps and what not. They had the right idea with Trafalgar Square - fining people who fed the pigeons. No more shitting on old Nelson now. _

_He actually doesn't mind Trafalgar Square. What's wrong with that, he thinks. Why it is always St James's Park and the Ritz? Why can't we go somewhere else for a change? Oh yes, because Aziraphale has to feed the effing ducks. I should refuse to go. Why can't we do anything that I want to do? _

_But then he thinks of how amused the Angel always is at the bird's bluster and at their arrogance and how he looks with his face flushed and eyes sparkling with laughter and despite himself Crowley heads for the Park, all protests unsaid. _

* * *

**Saturday**

They didn't really have a reason to meet up that particular Saturday. They just showed up there, at their usual spot to find Adam waiting for them.

"Why can't you just use the telephone, like everyone else?" asked Crowley. "Instead of just willing us to show up?"

Aziraphale nudged him, "It's not that we don't want to see you. I mean, we're always glad to help, _aren't we Crowley? _It would just be a bit more polite to ask, don't you think?"

That was Aziraphale for you, never wanting to upset the boy. Always going on about how they shouldn't be too hard on him, and that he needed compassion and love. If anyone asked for Crowley's opinion, he would say that what the boy needed was a good kick in the pants.

"It was just quicker this way," said Adam. "And besides, Crowley would just say no."

"That isn't the point," snapped Crowley. "The point is - oh fuck it, what do you want"

"A favour," said Adam, "and I won't mind if you do say no, I just really hope that you don't."

"No," said Crowley quickly, "No! No and No! Whatever it is, I want no part in it, and neither does the Angel here. And you're not a kid any more, you're what? Eighteen now? You don't need us to sort out whatever mess you've gotten yourself in. No, no, no, no, no!"

The boy's face fell. Aziraphale crumpled. Crowley could practically hear him fold.

"Oh come on Crowley; let's at least hear him out. Honestly dear, how bad could it be?

***

"Oh let's hear him out, Crowley. Oh it's only a little dog, Crowley. It's only for a little while, Crowley -"

"Now, my dear, don't be like that. It wasn't unreasonable. It is his first year at University after all and he'll be back for Christmas in no time."

THAT'S WHAT YOU THINK

"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Crowley, "Is everyone just going to show up unannounced today? Is this some sort of reunion? All we need is now is Hastur and Ligur and we're good to go!"

HE WONT BE BACK FOR IT. HE'LL FIND SOME EXCUSE. THERE WILL BE TOO MANY PARTIES AT CHRISTMAS. AT EASTER HE'LL HAVE TO STUDY FOR HIS EXAMS. DURING SUMMER HE'LL WANT TO GO ON HOLIDAY OR VOLUNTEER SOMEWHERE TROPICAL WITH A BEACH AND BEFORE YOU KNOW IT HE'LL BE BACK AT UNIVERSITY. A DOG IS FOR LIFE.

They all looked down at the animal in question that whined and hung its head.

"You're just being pessimistic," said Aziraphale, although he did sound a tad uncertain. "Adam will be back for this little creature in no time."

NO TIME? YOU'VE BEEN AROUND LONG ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT ALL ANY OF US HAVE IS TIME. HUMANS DON'T CHANGE. HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF AND ALL THAT YOU CAN BE SURE OF IS TIME.

"I hate to burst your bubble Angel," drawled Crowley, "But I agree with the man with the scythe. Here's another fine mess you've gotten yourself into."

"I don't see - wait - what do you mean by -"

"You agreed to take the mutt. You're stuck with it."

"But, but I thought that -"

"I don't care what you thought. I don't want anything to do with it."

"Look I don't expect you to bear the whole burden, but surely a couple of days every now and then wouldn't be too much."

"Right. And you thought that you'd just agree to whatever and I'd just play along out of the goodness of my non-beating, stone-cold heart? Hello? Demon here."

"Hrrmph!" Aziraphale puffed up his chest obviously trying to look dignifiedly wounded. "Well I'm sure we can do just well without you, can't we Dog?" Dog looked up confused as if to say _keep me out of this. _"Come along, we don't want to keep the _demon _waiting."

He flounced off but if he was going for a sweeping exit the effect was ruined slightly as he tripped over a duck.

Dog looked at Crowley reproachfully and then followed Aziraphale stopping to snap at the offending duck which hissed at him menacingly.

Crowley should have been feeling satisfied at avoiding a bothersome situation and annoying the Angel was always amusing and he had certainly managed that. But for some reason he was furious.

"Well I hope you're happy now," he spat turning around looking for someone to vent his anger at. Death had gone, as silently as he had arrived and all that was there was a rather bemused looking goose.

"That's right," he continued [Crowley, not the goose], "I hope you're happy you great dirty bird, sitting there judging me. Don't you even _start!"_

And with that he stalked off looking for someone to make miserable.

* * *

**Monday**

"We're getting on well, aren't we?" Aziraphale had started talking to the little dog. It was odd -it was almost as if he'd never been without him.

"And Crowley though it would be too much for me. Well we soon show him, wont we dear?"

Dog wagged his tail. He wasn't quite sure of his new master who was nothing like his old one. For one thing Dog was getting a lot less exercise than he was used to, but there was much better food and a lot more of it, and he felt a lot less guilty around this one. This one acted as if wanting to go outside was incredibly clever and he never expected Dog to do any incredible feats like jump over five foot fences because well, that Collie on the noisy box did. No, Dog wasn't quite sure of this master, but he thought that he could get used to him.

"You know, I'd always thought of getting a pet," Aziraphale continued cheerfully. "I mentioned it to Crowley once. He thought I'd be a cat person but I don't know. Cats are proud and aloof and well, they're rather selfish, don't you think? I think Crowley would be much better suited with a cat. It might give him a taste of his own medicine. I suppose you'll be wanting breakfast."

Dog barked in agreement and jumped up a couple of times.

"Yes I've always seen myself as a dog person. Although-" he paused to look at Dog critically. "I never quite saw myself with a dog like you. Now don't take this the wrong way dear," and now Aziraphale turned and began rummaging in a cupboard. "But I always thought I'd have a dog that was a bit more of the helpful kind - you know the type that always knows if you're sad, rescues people from cave ins and earthquakes and goes after the bad men - like a St Bernard I suppose, "

A whooshing sound. The type that you might expect if a very small dog suddenly grew into a very large one.

Aziraphale frowned slightly. "Did you hear that? Oh My Goodness!"

"Woof!" said Dog in a much deeper voice.

***

Those who knew about the not quite Apocalypse would later note that at least three of the horsemen, (or bikers, if you want to be picky), appeared to have bounced back with a vengeance. Even Pestilence had been persuaded out of retirement and had stepped up to the challenge admirably with new hospital-born super bugs and bird flue pandemics. Pollution had been heard to complain that there wasn't enough of a challenge. Humans were quite happy to pollute their world without any encouragement. They might worry about the depletion of resources and global warming; in fact almost everyone had serious concerns, but when it came to actually doing something about it no-one was willing to give up their little luxuries. Speaking of Global warming Famine was now working overtime. Those who didn't have to worry about where their next meal was coming from were dying to be thin and those who did... well, they were just dying.

As for War, she was very good at what she did. She enjoyed what she did. She didn't need a reason to work harder, it came naturally to her. But now, well, you do know what they say about a woman scorned.

And Death. He'd always been there. He always would be. He'd seen it all before and he knew he would see it again. Eternity is a very long time.

It doesn't matter what side you're on in a war or what you're fighting for. The bottom line is that people die. And while some of us think that there is no greater thing than to lay down your life for your country, some of us believe that life is the greatest thing. So when certain World Leaders were holding a conference in London to discuss about the way forward in the latest armed skirmish, a largish crowd gathered outside to protest.

Dog should not have liked London. He'd lived in Tadfield for all of his life and was not used to crowds and traffic and noise. He found the chaos strangely familiar and rather enjoyable. What he didn't like much was this new body. He didn't mind the size - but he wasn't loving his big shaggy coat - it was far too hot for that sort of thing. He also seemed to be drooling and slobbering a lot more but he supposed it was down to the heat. And he had a little barrel round his neck for no apparent reason. Not that he knew it was a barrel, he was just aware of something round tucked under his chin where his collar usually was. He couldn't see it, but it was entirely unnecessary and incredibly uncomfortable.

It had been an odd sort of day. He'd been waiting for his breakfast when his master had expressed a preference for this particular form. This had been accompanied by an irresistible urge to be helpful. Now Dog by nature wanted to please his master, but this was different and he couldn't quite understand it.

Unfortunately, nothing was going very well.

He'd tried to help old women cross the road but they'd whacked him over the head with their umbrellas or walking stick and one of them had even chased him with her scooter. He'd offered to help some dog walkers control their unruly dogs but they had just stood there wailing about how some vicious monster was trying to eat their poor fluffy and wouldn't someone help.

He'd tried to herd some children off the road and into their pre-school nursery because they could get hurt faffing about outside but half of them ran about screaming and the other half reacted gleefully to see the 'big doggy' and chased _him _while attempting to get on his back. And having several chubby little hands pulling at your fur really hurt. And then he'd tried to rescue a kitten stuck up a tree...

Let's just say that dogs aren't really built for climbing trees. Although the kitten _did_ jump down safely. Shame about the tree, though.

After all of Dog's helpful advances his master got more and more upset and flustered and apologised profusely with much wringing of his hands. Dog didn't think much of this. His old master _never _apologised. But he did feel a bit bad about how he was disappointing his master.

His master had tied him to a lamppost and then gone into a red box where he was now talking agitatedly into what Dog knew was called a phone. He wasn't really sure what humans got out of talking into these things but they seemed to do it a lot. He whined impatiently. Why were they waiting? There were people to help in the world.

Even though helping people hadn't been going very well, he was sure that he was getting better at it. He needed to do something bigger - then his master would be happy.

But he wasn't getting anywhere tied to this post. He knew he'd get in trouble going off on his own but really there were people out there that needed helping. He tugged on his leash a couple of times - the added poundage was certainly useful - and broke free. Now he could really sink his teeth in, his master was just slowing him down anyway.

Which is how he ended up by the protest barriers. On a side note, it says a lot about how preoccupied the average Londoner is that no-one had stopped to remark on a St Bernard wandering around unsupervised.

"God, it makes me sick that we elected some of them!"

"I know, I mean they have the moral compass of dung beetle!"

"Hey, hey! No dissing the dung beetles, man! After all what did the dung beetles ever do to you?"

"Heh, that's true, I suppose. I mean this lot are positively evil! Someone should do something about it."

"Well that's why we're here today! Alright, I think they're coming. Everyone ready?"

Most of human chatter washed over Dog, but one thing stood out. There were evil men and someone should do something about it. Well now that he was there he certainly would be doing something about it.

The big black cars were coming up now and Dog had watched enough on the noisy box with his old master to know that big black cars meant trouble. He bared his teeth and got ready. The evil men wouldn't know what bit them.

***

Unlike Aziraphale, Crowley actually did know how to use the internet. He'd always thought that people were very prone to exaggeration. For example, take the term 'roflmao', Crowley had never believed that anything could be so funny that it would reduce him to rolling on the floor laughing his ass off.

Until today.

He didn't even care that he was probably getting leaves and grass on his new leather jacket, for Crowley that was saying a lot. The ducks looked on disapprovingly.

"It wasn't that funny," said Aziraphale rather primly from a bench.

"Oh I beg to differ," countered Crowley raising his head, or at least that was what he was going for. It came out as "Oh -" wheeze "Aaaiiihaha -" gasp - "be - hee - hahaha," before he collapsed again on the grass.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale was getting rather desperate now, "Stop it! It isn't a laughing matter; I don't know what my superiors are going to say! This is an unmitigated disaster! I am never going to live this down. This is worse than anything I've ever done, or not done before put together!"

"Really?" asked Crowley, who had calmed down by this point and was retrieving his sunglasses, "Worse than that time the world almost ended?"

"Well, no," Aziraphale admitted. "Maybe not that bad. But it's still pretty bad."

"So there was a little bit of a ruckus. A couple of people will be spending a few hours in the cells. No politicians were harmed. All that it's going to cost them is the price of a pair of trousers!"

"One of them had a heart attack!"

"He weighed about 300 pounds! And it was only a little heart attack! It'll be a wakeup call!"

"Only a little - ?"

"And you know some good has come out of it. I got a commendation!"

"Crowley!"

"Look," Crowley sat down next to Aziraphale and slung an arm over his shoulder cheerfully. "You're overreacting. It was a simple mistake. You just got carried away and miracled the mutt into a canine version of you. It could happen to anyone. Maybe not anyone with an ounce of sense but you know what I mean."

Aziraphale sniffed. "You know from you, that's almost comforting."

"And you have to admit it was a little funny." Crowley nudged his shoulder playfully.

"It was not!" Despite himself Aziraphale was feeling a little better.

ON THE CONTRARY I FOUND IT VERY AMUSING.

"If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it." Aziraphale said huffily. "And this could be serious. I don't even remember consciously doing it."

Crowley stared at Dog, "Well he looks ok now. Maybe you're getting old. See the thing is angel cakes, one too many goes a long way."

I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE. THIS IS A PUN, YES? BECAUSE ANGEL CAKES COULD BE A FORM OF ENDEARMENT AND ALSO A TYPE OF CAKE?

Aziraphale snorted. "It wasn't that a good a joke to begin with."

"The thing you need to remember about humour, Reaper man, as some dead guy once said, is it is like a frog."

YOU MEAN HARD TO CATCH AND OCCASIONALLY VENOMOUS?

"Erm no… well yeah but that's not what I meant." said Crowley a bit discomfited. "But if the angel here is spontaneously miracling away when he isn't meaning to then we could have a teensy problem."

"You mean I do," said Aziraphale. "Well I suppose the first thing is to get this little fellow out of the way. I certainly can't have him around. I wonder if Anathema -"

"She and Newt have gone off for a couple of weeks, to reconnect or something. Although if Newt is involved I don't know if she wants to be connecting anything."

"Well maybe Mr Shadwell."

There was an uneasy silence. Dog whimpered.

"No, you're quite right," Aziraphale said shaking his head. "That wouldn't be a good idea. Now what do I do?" He looked at Crowley somewhat beseechingly.

"You could always give it back to the boy."

Aziraphale sighed heavily and looked at his knees. "I suppose there's nothing else to be done. I do hate to have to let him down. I did promise nothing would go wrong and I feel so awful about having to break my word." He paused here to quickly glance at Crowley. "Poor thing. Barely two days since he's gone off - you know he won't stay if there's no-one to look after this little creature. I just wish - "

"Enough, already!" Crowley glared at him. "Alright, look. If you promise you'll have these involuntary spasms checked out and fixed ASAP I suppose I could look after him for a while."

"Oh my dear! That is wonderful news! I knew I could count on you, Crowley… Oh I do owe you one." Aziraphale hugged him enthusiastically.

Crowley stood stiffly until the angel let him go and then took a couple of steps back looking slightly abashed. "Yeah, "he said with a slight tremor in his voice. "Damn straight you owe me one. I think I have somewhere to be now. Somewhere away. Come _on, _Dog"

He turned abruptly and walked into a lamppost.

Aziraphale stared as Crowley hurriedly righted himself and dragged Dog off on his leash. "Oh dear," he said. "I wonder if the hug was a bit too much. I just forgot myself, I suppose."

I THOUGHT IT WAS SKILLFULLY DONE.

"Oh?" said Aziraphale absently, "What?"

But he was alone in the park. Aziraphale sighed and the headed home himself, suddenly feeling very empty.

***

Crowley walked into his apartment and surveyed his domain.

"Alright plants, I want you all to listen up. This fine canine specimen is called Dog. He will be taking up residence here. Any one of you that falls below standard shall be given to Dog for his own personal usage for two days and then incinerated. Got that? I'm glad we've had this little chat."

He looked down at Dog and grinned. Dog cocked his head to one side.

"Well Laddie, you may have some uses after all. Now no jumping on the furniture or piddling on the floor and we shouldn't do so badly." He paused, "Although, given your track record, that shouldn't be too hard. I mean, I can't think how anyone would be able to mess this up worse that Aziraphale did, can you? Nope, didn't think so. And now I'm talking to a dumb, no offence, animal. Gah! I need a drink."

You'd think that with being around from before the dawn of time and having seen an awful lot, if not it all, Crowley should have known better to tempt God, Fate and Murphy's Law.

Some people (or more specifically, in this case, supernatural beings) never learn.

Although, to be fair, he did do slightly better than Aziraphale. By about six hours.

* * *

**Wednesday**

Crowley finally gave in and materialised some dog food for Dog on Wednesday afternoon. He had no idea what the boy, or for that matter Aziraphale had been feeding the mutt but it refused to eat anything that Crowley had offered it.

Although when he thought about it, perhaps miracling live rabbits and expecting it to hunt its own food was ill advised.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

He'd fallen asleep before he could sober himself up on Monday night, and had woken up on Tuesday with a dog whining in his ear and a bitch of a hangover. He'd barely had time to shove the creature away before he bolted for the bathroom.

He leaned weakly against the toilet bowl afterwards and the mutt had started a high pitched yipping that felt like nails being hammered into his skull. He'd snapped his fingers to mute the blasted creature. It had bared its teeth at him and then proceeded to carry out Crowley's threat to his plants, some of which lost the will to live and wilted.

Crowley hadn't known that plants _could_ commit suicide.

He'd almost called Aziraphale but he'd never live it down if he'd had to give up in less than twelve hours.

He concentrated, and finally managed to de-hangover on the fourth try. The funny thing was he couldn't even remember why he'd gotten so drunk in the first place. The problem with drinking to forget is that often you forget what it was you wanted to forget.

He'd decided that the only way to deal with the situation was to go back to bed. Maybe he could sleep through the next hundred years and when he woke up everything would have taken care of itself.

Dog came into his room some time later and pawed at his head. Crowley kept his eyes shut and hoped that if he ignored it, it would go away. When it got no response the mutt grabbed Crowley's ear and tugged hard.

"Ow! Let go! I'm up! I'm up!" Crowley leapt up arms flailing wildly, knocking the dog off his ear. Dog then sniffed a couple of times and then threw its head back and howled. Crowley winced. He could only imagine how loud that would sound and was glad he'd left its volume turned off.

After some trial and error that had involved flinging open windows and doors and entreating it to - 'Fly, little dog! Fly, and be free!' - he'd established that it was hungry.

It stared glumly after the rabbits Crowley kindly produced and then proceeded to chew Crowley's shoes; obviously they were a tastier prospect for some unfathomable reason.

Crowley had thrown a couple of loafs of bread at it – well, that worked for the ducks – and then slammed out of his flat, not even caring that he was only half dressed. He _was _a demon, after all. With any luck the mutt would have climbed out of a window and fallen splattering to the ground by the time he got back.

"It was a tragic, tragic tragedy," he said to himself, thinking of what he would say to Aziraphale. "I am deeply saddened and will never forgive myself. In fact my life in this mortal coil no longer has meaning – I think the only thing that can be done is for you to give me a reason to go on, if you know what I –"

Oh. Right. That explained last night's drunkenness.

Muttering colourful phrases in long dead languages, he headed for… well, somewhere – anywhere as long as it had alcohol and a 24 hour license.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. He woke up on Wednesday in front of his television with vague recollections of singing "I will survive" in Leicester Square and talking to some sparkly teenagers in Camden Town about how you could never trust angels and antichrists and how just when you thought you finally knew what it was all about, it turned around and kicked you in the nuts. Ineffable, that's what it was.

He remembered that they had listened to him solemnly and wondered if they would start a new religion or cult around him. Either that or they had just been trying to not antagonise the crazy drunk and were looking for the earliest opportunity to leg it.

Dog sat on one of Crowley's formerly pristine leather sofas, a picture of misery and dejection. The rabbits, which were looking obscenely fluffy, hopped about with an almost fiendish cheerfulness, especially given that one of them appeared to have choked on a loaf of bread.

Crowley got rid of the rabbits and felt something uncomfortably like guilt. He was wondering if he was going to be forced to do some actual shopping when an advertisement for dog food came on.

Inspiration struck.

Dog hadn't looked too impressed, and sniffed it rather disdainfully, but was hungry enough to tuck into it all the same.

"Yes!" shouted Crowley, gleefully. "I am a genius!" He jigged about the room, miracling dog food cans out of nowhere onto all of the kitchen surfaces.

Then he felt terribly undignified and was glad that no-one was there to see him.

He stood under the shower for half an hour, and felt a lot better. He'd never been too big a fan of baths, but thought that humans had got the right idea with showers.

He would bet both arms and both legs that Aziraphale was a bath person.

Dog had finished eating by the time he came out again and wagged its tail. Then it ran and pawed at the door.

"Oh right. You want to go outside, do you?"

Dog sat back on its – no, that wasn't quite right – _his_ haunches and barked silently. It looked rather cute, but wrong.

Crowley snapped his fingers and then cringed. The barking was loud, high-pitched and had a distinctly plaintive sound to it.

"Alright, alright! Just let me get my sunglasses. For – Go – Sata – _for fuck's sake_, shush!"

Shush? He'd obviously been spending too much time with that angel.

Adam obviously had trained the mutt well, it behaved itself commendably on their walk and two youngish women paused to exclaim on how cute it was. Other than their appallingly poor eyesight, they also had ridiculous morals for this day and age. On talking to them, Crowley discovered that the wristbands they wore indicated that they had decided to 'wait' until they were married. He took great delight in convincing them that this was a terrible idea, but found fending them off significantly less pleasant.

Crowley always maintained that the future was in thinking big but sometimes a bit of good old one-on-one tempting had its merits. It always made him feel so productive.

By the time they were back home Crowley felt a lot better about everything. This lasted all of twenty seconds.

***

Crowley shut the door and stopped in his tracks. He felt a strong demonic presence – not quite here yet, but very close. He had no time to lose. He grabbed Dog by his collar, ran into the kitchen and threw him into the nearest cupboard – it wasn't as if he had anything in there.

"Hello, Crowley – I trust we're not intruding."

Crowley turned around slowly and adjusted his sunglasses. "Hastur. Well isn't this an unpleasant surprise."

"Charming as always," Hastur said, "Have you met Ulthar? I'm training him to be Ligur's replacement. You _do _remember Ligur, don't you?" he added nastily.

Ulthar was small and weedy looking and appeared to be taking notes.

"Enchanted," said Crowley scathingly, "New, is he? I can't say I've seen him about."

"I was recently promoted, sir. They believe I show great promise. They thought of me as soon as the position opened up."

So he was one of _those. _A pencil pusher. Crowley shuddered.

"Keen, our Ulthar is," smiled Hastur. "In fact, if it wasn't for his due diligence, we wouldn't be here today."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Ulthar pulled out a plastic folder from somewhere and rummaged through it. "I was examining the report for your latest commendation, which took place at approximately 11:45 this Monday, when I came upon a curiosity."

Crowley raised an eyebrow artistically. "Well, you know what they say about curiosity. Best avoid it, if you know what I'm saying. Ligur was a curious sort of bloke, too."

Hastur snarled. "If you're threatening us, you maggoty -"

"Now, now, sir," said Ulthar placating, "You know that threats are to be encouraged. Guidebook says it indicates a healthy attitude for our line of work."

Crowley stared at him.

"So, Mr Crowley," said Ulthar, reading from his notes, "Anthony, you don't mind if I call you Anthony, do you? You received a commendation for the disruption of peace talks over the current _conflict of interests_ between certain countries. This incident involved a hound that had been seen in the possession of a Mr A. Z. Raphael, proprietor of one used bookstore in Soho. Can you confirm if this is true?"

Crowley thought fast. While no-one had ever said he couldn't consort with angels, and _they _could have hardly failed to notice him working with Aziraphale during the Apocalypse That Wasn't, he had a feeling that the Arrangement would be frowned upon.

"Could be," he said airily, "I wouldn't have a clue. I saw an opportunity and I struck. The dog could have been anyone's, you know. I didn't stop to ask. I reckon it wouldn't go too well. 'Hello Madam, mind if I borrow your dog for a moment to bite a Cabinet Minister?'"

Hastur made an impatient noise that sounded a bit like "Thcha!"

Ulthar laid a restraining hand on Hastur's arm and fake-laughed unpleasantly. "Snng sng sg, very amusing, Anthony. And yet I find it curious that you should have so many tins of what, and correct me if I'm wrong, I believe is a leading brand of dog food. And do I detect -" he sniffed a sagging houseplant "a strange stench of dog urine coming from your plants."

"We've got you now, Crowley." Hastur was rubbing his hand and almost salivating at the prospect.

There was a snuffling from the cupboard door which started to swing open - Crowley slammed it closed and pressed his back to it.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Ulthar stroked his chin with his pen and looked thoughtful.

"There's a perfectly simply explanation," Crowley said desperately, "This is my new pet! I got the idea from the dog… see, it can get rather lonely sometimes. He hasn't been properly housetrained that's all."

"Do you expect us to believe that, you slimy serpent?"

"Now, Mr Hastur, let us not be hasty. After all are we not reasonable men?"

Hastur looked at Ulthar exasperated. "No, you silly bugger! And we aint men either."

"Sticks and stones, sir, sticks and stones. And I hope I don't have to remind you, sir, of our new directive? You can't have forgotten the Policy, surely?" Ulthar's voice had developed a definite edge to it. His eyes narrowed menacingly.

"No, no," said Hastur, hastily. "Of course not."

"If you will satisfy my curiosity, Anthony, and let us see your new canine companion then my esteemed colleague and I will be on our way," Ulthar smiled. He looked Crowley directly in the eye.

Looking an occult (or ethereal, if you prefer that term) being in the eye is generally not a good idea. You can see things - horrible things, that don't bear talking about, things that can only be brought through great suffering or great sadness or madness so great that it has passed out through to some other side. Ulthar's eyes had none of those things. There was simply nothing there.

Crowley found that this terrified him. _Aziraphale _he thought.

"Tha - that wouldn't be a good idea," he rasped; his throat suddenly very dry... "He's not very good with visitors. Almost took someone's leg off the other day."

Dog whined loudly and pawed at the door.

"Really, Anthony?" Ulthar smiled wider. "You wouldn't be telling me a little white lie, would you? That would be so disappointing, especially after I was doing my best to be _reasonable."_

Crowley wished that the stupid mutt could have stayed bigger. Or at least, silent. The incessant scratching at the cupboard stopped.

Crowley made a last ditch effort. "Look, I'm just saying this for your own good. This is dog isn't the man's-best-friend sort you see on the telly, he's a vicious bastard. He's a killer - a real hellhound!"

There was an ominous silence. Crowley could feel the cupboard door strain behind his back. He had an awful feeling about this.

"Why don't you let us be the judge of that," said Ulthar as slick as an oil spill.

Crowley gasped with the effort of keeping the door closed. Whatever was inside wanted to get out very, very badly. He shrugged at the inevitability of it all.

"Alright," he said quietly. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

He opened the door.

***

Have you ever dreamt that you were someone else? Or _something _else.

Imagine that you're naturally bold and courageous. You're outgoing and vivacious and never back down. Then you dream that you're shy and retiring and dislike confrontation. And as far as you know, you've always been this way. It might feel a bit wrong, it might feel uncomfortable, but it is what it is. As long as you're dreaming this is the way it's always been.

For the thing now inside the cupboard, this is what it was like: _It was like waking up. _

It had been asleep and dormant for years, (well, seven years technically, which isn't that long a time, but in _dog _years it's half your life), and now it was awake. There was a fierce joy at finally being _free_, finally being allowed to do its purpose, finally having a Master who was _worthy. _And anger too, anger at being subdued for so long. Sheer mindless fury.

You know they talk about hell having no fury like a woman scorned. That's a load of bollocks. A woman scorned may get pretty angry, but it's your normal, every-day, anger, just sustained over a longer time period. If you took that anger and multiplied it by a incredibly high number, stoked it with the fires of the core of the earth and then simmered it for as long as before the first angel fell, you would only just scratch the surface of hell's fury.

OK, maybe that is exaggerating somewhat, but it _is _a whole heap angrier than your average heartbroken human female.

_This _was hell's fury, and it was in Crowley's kitchen.

***

Crowley opened the door and then ducked behind it.

He didn't know what would come would come out of the cupboard, but wanted to be well out of biting range when it did.

It wasn't Dog anymore, it wasn't even _a _dog.

Ulthar had stepped back to take more notes, but Hastur had leaned forward eagerly, almost hungrily. If Crowley had been looking at his face instead of scrambling away he would have thought that Hastur planned to eat whatever came out. Knowing Hastur this was not just being metaphorical, but it was rather ironic in a way.

So when it came out, all teeth and claws and inhuman brutality, Hastur bore the full brunt of it.

Crowley had intended to sneak away stealthily, but when he heard the first scream, that plan went out the window. So did Crowley.

He was immensely thankful that he'd forgotten to close the windows. Not that it would have mattered, but smashing through a glass window was never pleasant.

He unfurled his wings as he fell so that saved the trouble of being messily discorporated.

He landed heavily, bolted into the Bentley and sped off.

_Ohshit _he thought _ohshitohshitohshit. _

***

Ulthar was mildly alarmed when the hellhound came rampaging out of the cupboard.

It wasn't so much the actual hellhound. More that Crowley had been telling the truth.

The same way as _employees_ were encouraged to make threats, they were also encouraged to lie. It showed that they had embraced the spirit of the _establishment._ Of course they were expected to tell the truth eventually but they were _demons _after all. Where would they all be if they just keeled over and started telling the truth and coming away peacefully.

That would be another black mark against Anthony Crowley. The hellhound showed enterprise though. Ulthar wondered where he'd gotten one from.

He stepped back, to avoid the spray of blood, ectoplasm and other various fluids. He scowled at the racket Hastur was making. Couldn't he see that Ulthar was trying to think? Some people were so inconsiderate.

Crowley was a strange one. There was that business a few years ago with his Lordship's son, and general insubordination and now this hellhound.

Again, it wasn't the hellhound per se,but this was obviously an _unauthorised _hellhound.

You couldn't just go around sticking hellhounds on people without a permit.

And there were all these rumours about Crowley and that angel. Ulthar shook his head, and sighed heavily. There was so much to do and now it looked like he'd need a new partner.

He made a note of it and stepped out of the flat. He was just about done here and besides, he was running late for an appointment. Hastur had stopped screaming. By the sounds of it the hellhound was almost done too.

***

Dog, (well, it was Dog, regardless of what Crowley though, only not the same Dog that he had been before), looked up from the mess that had formerly been Hastur, and scanned the room for his master. Who wasn't there. This did not concern Dog overly. This one had been coming and going for the past couple of days. His master was obviously not like the others, who had expected him to be with them all the time.

The logical thing to do would have been to wait for his Master. After all if someone has gone away, but you know that they are going to come back, it's easier in the long run to just stay put rather than run around looking for them. Especially if you have no idea where they are. However, this is a human way of looking at things.

(Although not, according to several directors and writers of moving pictures. It is a well known fact that any group of people trapped in a haunted house or foreboding forest with a crazed killer or belligerent spirit on the loose will split up so that they can be picked off one by one. The same way anyone lost in the desert or in a jungle will immediately decide to go into the cave of doom or cross the river of death instead of staying in relative safety where there is a radio and food in cans.)

Dogs do not think like humans, hellhounds even less. The way Dog's mind worked was something like this –

1. His only purpose was to serve, obey and protect his master

2. His master was not there for serving, obeying or protecting.

3. The only thing to do was to follow the last orders his master had given him.

He'd called Dog a hellhound. Which was what had set Dog _free_. But before that he'd said something else; he'd called Dog a killer.

Well that suited Dog right down to the ground.

_He'd kill._

***

Crowley was going out of his mind. He'd driven to Aziraphale's bookshop before he had even thought about where he was going.

The sign on the shop said closed, but it was after five, so that's what it would say.

He'd gone tearing inside without even bothering to knock and stampeded around for five minutes before he realised that Aziraphale was not there.

This was ridiculous because Aziraphale never went anywhere. Not at this time of day.

And then he was struck by a thought so intensely horrifying that it was almost paralytic.

They knew about Aziraphale.

… _A Mr A.Z. Raphael proprietor of one used bookstore in Soho. Can you confirm this? _

Crowley sat down weakly on the dusty floor.

Oh this was bad, this was unbelievably bad. This was so bad that … that he could not think of a single metaphor to describe how bad it was.

Whatever Aziraphale had that caused his spontaneous miracles without even trying, Crowley now had too. And Crowley had somehow managed to screw things up even more spectacularly. In a thousand years they would be still warning little demons about him. They would speak of him in hushed tones and terrified awe and say things like you must work hard and be diligent, or you will end up like Crowley. And if anyone cocked up in an exceptionally impressive manner they would call it doing a Crowley.

And all that aside, a hellhound was currently wrecking havoc around London and Aziraphale was now in some dreadful pit of dark doom being tortured and it was all Crowley's fault.

He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He couldn't think about it. He wouldn't.

He couldn't think about anything else for a long time.

Somehow he'd ended up outside Regent's Park with no recollection of how he'd got there. He apparently driven there, because there was the Bentley parked on the pavement but he didn't remember when he'd left the bookshop. He must have stayed there quite a while because when he'd gone to the bookshop it was early evening, now the sky was dark and the stars had come out.

He was numb and he felt small and confused and very alone and horribly guilty and he didn't know _what to do_.

He started walking not paying attention to where he was going so it was not entirely surprising when he stepped into one of the lakes.

Well, it didn't surprise Crowley. The ducks were extremely surprised. They splash - flapped away, squawking indignantly.

It was rather mild for September, but the water was still pretty cold. Maybe it would clear his head, Crowley thought. He felt overwhelmingly tired. He could hear someone shouting in the background. He ignored it and sat down.

The water felt blessedly cool as it closed over his head. It was quiet and peaceful down there and almost comforting. Maybe he could just stay here. Maybe he could just stay here and let the world take care of itself and he wouldn't have to think about how to fix it and what he'd done and how that stupid Arrangement had been his idea.

Aziraphale had been a bit hesitant at first but Crowley had insisted and how was an angel supposed to resist someone asking to be friends? And now they were _attached _and it had all gone wrong and if anything had happened to Aziraphale, which let's face it, it probably already had Crowley would – would –

There was a loud crashing – splashing sound and then someone forcefully grabbed him under his arms and yanked him out of the water.

The ducks flapped manically and protested as noisily as they knew how. It must be a very interesting night for them Crowley thought detachedly as his rescuer grunted and panted. They've probably had more excitement in this one night than in their entirely pointless ducky lives.

His rescuer dragged him ashore, deposited him roughly on the ground and wheezed a couple of times. Crowley lay on his back and stared at the stars. Nothing mattered any more.

"My God, Crowley!" gasped an angry, breathless and wonderfully, achingly familiar voice. "What the _fuck _do you think you're doing?"

***

It wasn't like Aziraphale to swear though, so Crowley jerked himself around, nearly spraining his neck in the process.

He was dripping wet and dishevelled and his glasses were askew and he was panting because he never remembered that he didn't actually need to breathe. His face was an odd purplish-pink colour and his cheeks were quivering slightly from the effort and he had algae and duck feathers in his hair, but he was unmistakably Aziraphale.

Crowley had never seen a more beautiful sight.

"What is the matter with you?" demanded Aziraphale. "What are you doing here? Where's the dog? And why are you trying to drown yourself in a lake?"

"Aziraphale?" said Crowley faintly, goggling up at him.

"Yes!" snapped the angel, "Still here and waiting for you to say something!"

"Aziraphale!" Crowley repeated. He still felt emotionally drained.

It's like this - sometimes when you've been riding high, or low on a particular emotion it can be hard to snap out of it. So when you've spent a good few hours despairing that you're the only person you've ever cared about is currently being hideously mutilated by fiends from hell and then he shows up unharmed and rather annoyed at you – it can sometimes take a few minutes to register.

Aziraphale's face softened and he put a hand on Crowley's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked concerned.

Crowley let out a shaky laugh. He was shivering although he wasn't sure if that was because of the cold or the relief.

"I'm fine," he said rather hoarsely. And he was fine. Aziraphale was ok and he was here and not hanging upside down over a heated lava pit with his entrails hanging out and everything was fine.

He pulled the angel down next to him, tucked his face into the crook of Aziraphale's neck and wrapped an arm over his shoulder.

Aziraphale stiffened briefly. Then he slackened, shook his head disbelievingly, held Crowley properly and stroked his hair. Crowley sighed contently and snuggled closer.

Aziraphale smelled of pond weed and wet tweed, but beneath that was the smell of old books and cocoa and of the angel himself.

"There, there," crooned Aziraphale soothingly. "I don't know what happened to you, but it will be alright. Whatever it is we can rectify it in the morning. Unless, you've been doing… er… roots… and are… um… rocked?"

Crowley laughed a little hysterically. Yes, that was Aziraphale alright. The angel started and tried to move back, Crowley clutched at him desperately and hung on as if for dear life. He wasn't going to let Aziraphale out of his sight or grasp again, not after he'd almost lost him.

Aziraphale sighed in a long-suffering way and then gently distangled Crowley from himself. He cupped Crowley's cheek with his palm, sighed again and then kissed Crowley tenderly on the forehead.

It would be easy, thought Crowley, so easy to just pull the angel's head down and –

"I'm terribly sorry about this, my dear," said Aziraphale sounding sincerely regretful. "I wish I could just – never mind – just trust me when I say this is going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you."

He leaned back, presumably to optimise the impact, and bought the back of his hand across Crowley's face.

Hard.

It made his head snap back and his ears ring. One day Crowley was going to have to ask Aziraphale where he had got such a mean backhand from. On the plus side it had the desired effect.

"Ow," said Crowley rather pathetically, "That fucking _hurt -" _

"Hmm," Aziraphale mused tranquilly, shaking his hand, "I know. So are you going to tell me why you're having sudden urges to sleep with the fishes or am I going to have to slap you a few more times."

***

"And then I came here."

"To take a swim?"

"Look, I was upset, ok? It's not every day you see a hellhound tear someone apart. Not that I'm going to be crying over Hastur, as far as I'm concerned it couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke."

"But why the lake?"

"I thought they'd kidnapped you and were poking unspeakable things into your orifices!"

Aziraphale paused to swallow apprehensively at this image, but then continued in the manner of a particularly headstrong toddler that refuses to give up that smelly old blanket that has now become a breeding ground for new, virulent diseases. "That's … touching. But why were you in the lake?"

"Would you stop going on about the lake? We have more important things to worry about. We have a hellhound running around."

"Did you have to say hellhound? Couldn't you have turned it into something a bit less obtrusive? Not to mention violent."

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

"You _said _that you did want it to be bigger!"

"Well yeah, but wanting something and effectively causing it to happen are two different things! I mean I've always wished you'd update your wardrobe beyond the 1920s but I've never actually done anything about it!"

"Well you knew that it had happened to me earlier, you should have been more careful!"

"I thought you'd caught some sort of angel flue. Maybe I caught it off you!"

"That's ridiculous. Are you _sure_ you have been smoking any roots?"

"Well, can _you _explain it?"

Aziraphale frowned thoughtfully, "Demonic possession? Do you think -?"

YOU ARE BOTH VERY STUPID PEOPLE AND DO NOT KNOW ANYTHING AT ALL.

"You again?" snapped Crowley, who was feeling particularly fractious after his impromptu dip in the pond. "Why are you always showing up here? Don't you have something better to do?"

YES. YOUR NEW PET HAS BEEN KEEPING ME BUSY TONIGHT. BUT THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale intoned mournfully, "What have you done?"

"Oh shut up. If you hadn't done it first, I wouldn't have had to."

THIS IS STRANGELY AMUSING. I BEGIN TO SEE THE APPEAL OF ALL THOSE SITUATION COMEDIES THAT MAINLY CONSIST OF PEOPLE FIGHTING.

Aziraphale pitched the bridge of his nose and looked pained. "We're not going to get anywhere blaming each other." he turned to the robed figure. "You obviously know something that we don't."

I KNOW EVERYTHING. EXCEPT THAT WHICH IS INEFFABLE.

"Right," said Crowley. "And you're what? Waiting for a drum roll and thunderous music?"

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND? IS THIS YOUR HUMOUR AGAIN? IS THIS HOW IT IS SIMILAR TO A FROG? IT CAN MAKE A PERCUSSIVE SOUND AND COMES OUT WHEN IT RAINS?

"What? I don't – _What?_"

Aziraphale groaned. "Just tell us, please."

There was a creaking whistling noise. The type you might expect if a skeleton attempted to sigh.

I CAN GIVE YOU NO ANSWERS. BUT I SHALL GIVE YOU SOME ADVICE - REMEMBER THAT EVERYTHING HAS ROOTS.

"Aha!" said Aziraphale, "I _knew _you were using narcotic substances!"

"Shut up angel. What do you – Gah! I hate it when he does that! This is probably just some bloody soap opera for him. But while we're on the subject, it's weeds not roots!"

"Roots," muttered Aziraphale. "Roots. Everything has roots. Where did the dog come from?"

"From Adam, you git!"

"No, I mean where did he get the dog from."

"I don't know. I think he mentioned it being a birthday present from his father, but…"

Crowley trailed off and gulped. The angel's jaw had dropped open.

There was a tense silence. The sort you might get when both parties in the conversation realise that they have indeed been very stupid.

"Aziraphale," ventured Crowley eventually, "Are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

Aziraphale closed his mouth with a snap and his eyes with a grimace. "This is going to be another one of _those _weeks, isn't it?"

"Yep," Crowley resigned himself gloomily to his fate. "I'd say we're pretty much fucked every which way."

***

Ulthar arrived discretely at a rather fancy restaurant in Islington.

The head waiter nodded at him and silently led him to table in a discrete corner where someone was discretely waiting for him. Someone who was tall, imposing and who possessed what some might describe as almost ethereal poise and beauty.

"You're 30 seconds late."

Ulthar flashed a tight smile, "Is that any way to great an old friend, Terinael? I was momentarily detained."

Terinael was a dominion. His job was similar to Ulthar's, as in they both were tasked with overseeing the duties of their respective employer's agents on earth.

The Association had been going on for a few centuries now. It was proving quite beneficial to both parties. Ulthar sometimes felt that only Terinael could truly appreciate the difficulties he faced just trying to do his job, except for some reason he felt the need to joke about it incessantly. And he spent far too much money on his hair.

"Indeed?" Terinael raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "And how is your idea for undercover auditing going?"

"Not too well, I'm afraid. I wouldn't recommend it. Hastur was far too… crude for the more delicate nature of my operations. It was about as much a chore keeping him in line, as it was getting information out of my elusive charges. The trouble with lower orders, Terinael, is that if you allow them to pretend that they are in charge they actually start to believe it. No, I should have listened to you and stuck to working alone."

"Of course, you should have!" Terinael's eyes danced merrily. "You should know by now Ulthar. I am always right. And may I ask where this Hastur is? Not anywhere close I hope?"

"Oh no, he was the unfortunate incident that detained me. Casualty of the job I'm afraid. Which brings us to that canine problem. My friend, Mr Crowley seems to have let a hellhound loose in London. I expect if we were to listen to a news broadcast right now we would hear the tales of its exploits. Now I have asked some of my office assistants to clarify a few matters for me but I do believe that this may be the same dog that you were interested in."

"Interesting," mused Terinael. "The question is where he got it from."

"It's unauthorised," said Ulthar, "at least, it isn't authorised to _Crowley."_

"Surely it shouldn't be too hard to find out whom it was authorised to," Terinael goaded. "After all I can count the number of hellhounds that have been let loose in the past millennium on one mutilated hand."

And then there were those comments that Terinael made from time to time. Ulthar was not sure that they were entirely appropriate for an angel.

"Terinael, you would let me know, if you knew something, wouldn't you? It would be ever so rude if you were withholding information that would be of use in my investigations."

Terinael smiled. "Let me put it this way, how many hellhounds have been released that were _not _accounted for?"

"You don't mean – "

"Consider this, my short-statured friend! At precisely 9:39 on Monday morning I receive a complaint that one of my principalities has acquired a large dog that is behaving conspicuously. It is hard for us to minister to the needy unbeknownst to them when immediately afterwards a large animal knocks over their dustbins. At 11:43 your London agent claims responsibility for a disturbance that involves a creature of similar description. On Tuesday my man expresses concern that he is finding some difficulty controlling himself. And tonight your little serpent sets a hellhound loose. Coincidence? I think not."

Ulthar thought for a few seconds. "There have always been rumours about those two," he murmured.

"How delightful! I do love rumours; they very often conceal the crux of the matter." Terinael beamed. A couple of the waiters were bedazzled by the glow and walked in other.

"Well, you know the _incident -"_

"Oh that!" Terinael made a dismissive gesture - somehow he managed to make even that look majestically regal - "Everyone knows about that, it's just that no one talks about it. I hoped you were going to reveal a dark tale full of dark deeds."

"You are an irascible gossip, you know. Isn't it frowned upon for your sort to encourage such behaviour?"

"_Encourage?" _Terinael sounded practically horrified. "My dear companion, how could you suggest such a thing. No of course not. When I hear my angels are behaving inappropriately I encourage them to _repent. _It is only by remorse that they can retain their status. Some of them are less repentant than others. Aziraphale is one of them. I should have liked to deal with him sooner but one must follow procedure. But if he carries on the way he has been one day I shall be forced to take action."

This was exactly the sort of thing that Ulthar meant. Terinael understood the need for order and precision. He might have different methods, but they understood each other.

"Quite," he agreed. "I feel the same way about Crowley, although now that we mention the incident, I do recall something rather curious."

"Yes?"

"His Lordship's son was to be sent a hellhound for his own personal use on his eleventh birthday. No such animal was reported, however it is a well documented fact the Adam Young was always accompanied by a small dog until earlier this week when he departed for university."

"Now that is interesting," Terinael's eyes shone with barely concealed glee. "If it is the same animal, and I'd bet my last wing feather that it is, this could incredibly fortuitous for both of us?"

Ulthar smiled. Terinael was always so enterprising. It was a pity they were on opposite sides.

Terinael grinned and leaned back in his chair. "So tell me, Ulthar. How do you feel about a spot of hellhound hunting?"

* * *

**Friday**

"You know, we can't really blame ourselves," Crowley said philosophically, "How were we to know? It's just one of those things."

"Someone should have known," muttered Aziraphale. "Someone should have warned us."

Aziraphale didn't sleep. But right now he felt very tired. Crowley quite liked sleeping so there must be some merit to it and the prospect of switching off and not having to deal with everything was very tempting.

It was seven in the morning and they were in a little Starbucks on the backstreet between Charing Cross and Embankment Station. It was always busy given its location, and the morning rush was just beginning.

Aziraphale didn't like big chain coffee outlets much. He much preferred quiet little tea shops that had charm and character. People working at the chains always looked at him funny and talked to him loudly and slowly as if he was mentally challenged in some way.

Crowley had obstinately refused to budge. "It's six thirty! The chains are the only places that are open! It's when they do their main business of the day and there's one at every street corner and the service is fast and I want coffee!"

Aziraphale had given in before Crowley developed into a fully fledged tantrum. But he had firmly insisted that they queue like everyone else and pay.

The too-thin woman in front of them had asked for a Grande decaf skinny latte with soy milk and a shot of sugar-free vanilla syrup. The sullen looking girl behind the counter had nodded glumly and managed it with no problems. She also seemed quite happy with Crowley's order of 'double espresso and make it snappy'. On the other hand she was unable to comprehend what Aziraphale meant when he asked for a cup of tea.

"I don't understand," said the girl. Her name-tag proclaimed that her name was Sarah and she was happy to help. "What kind of tea?"

This would have never happened if they'd just waited for a _proper _tea shop to open.

"Er… what type do you have?"

"English traditional, English breakfast, Yorkshire tea, earl grey, lady grey, Darjeeling, Assam, Nilgiri, Ceylon, Oolong," Aziraphale felt increasingly bewildered, the line behind him was beginning to grow restless and impatient.

"I'll just -"

"And then there's our speciality teas and infusions," Sarah continued monotonously. She was staring fixedly at a point somewhere above Aziraphale's head. "Green tea, Jasmine tea, Peppermint, Camomile, Raspberry, Elderberry, Very Berry, Forest Berry – "

"Look, lady," Crowley cut in. "Just give him a breakfast tea and be done with it."

"Yes, Sir, but -"

"English! And he doesn't want a shot of anything in it!"

"Fine," said Sarah moodily. "Have a nice day."

And then he had to get his own milk and sugar as well.

"So, basically you're paying for hot water, a tea bag and the privilege of sitting down," Crowley informed him cheerfully, "Think of that the next time you make a big thing about me not wanting to part with my hard earned money."

"But it isn't hard earned." Aziraphale protested.

"It _could _be."

They spent the last day and a half looking for Dog. They'd started off at Crowley's flat – which hadn't been pretty and followed the carnage for a few metres after which the trail had gone cold. To all purposes and appearances it had vanished.

They'd wandered around London whistling for it. But other than getting some chips thrown at them on one occasion and having a crowd of drunken university students join in on another, nothing very notable had happened.

Crowley was now on his third double espresso. Aziraphale hadn't dared to ask for another tea.

"Think of it logically," Crowley said dolefully, attempting to construct a miniature fortress with wooden stirring sticks. "If you were a crazed hellhound with a penchant for evisceration, destruction and general mayhem, where would you go to relax?"

That was Crowley for you. Aziraphale wished he could take things seriously and joke at the same time.

Crowley had been incredibly prickly since the incident in the duck pond. Aziraphale didn't know what to make of it.

He'd been in Regents Park because the bookshop had felt bleak and empty. Which was rather silly – he'd only had Dog for two days. Less than that, in fact. And if he was being honest with himself it wasn't just Dog that he was missing.

He supposed that was why he'd gone to the park. He'd only meant to feed the ducks at lunchtime and go back, but had found it impossible to move. It was quite a situation he'd gotten himself into.

It wasn't unheard of for angels to become more than fond of their human charges. Or too fond of each other. It came with the territory. When things like that happened the angels involved had usually been allowed to get it out of their system and carry on. On the few occasions when that didn't work they were sent on an extended vacation and then relocated.

Aziraphale had never heard of a case where an angel had gotten too fond of a demon.

It was fine when he thought that his feelings were unrequited. It was a little painful sometimes but it was bearable. But that night …

When he saw Crowley show up, he'd supposed that this had something to do with Adam again. The boy preferred that way. Obviously his principals of not meddling with people did not extend to Aziraphale and Crowley which Aziraphale thought was a bit hypocritical of him.

Of course the other option was that Adam simply didn't consider them as people but Aziraphale tried not to dwell on that too hard.

Aziraphale was sure that Crowley had to have seen worse things than a hellhound tearing someone apart. Aziraphale had seen worse things than a hellhound tearing someone apart! And no, it wasn't pleasant but you shook it off and moved on. And if you were Crowley and the victim in question was someone you didn't particularly like, which in Crowley's case was almost everyone, you laughed it off and moved on once you had finished rolling on the floor.

So something else must have upset him. And Aziraphale didn't think that Crowley was all that bothered about Dog. It was inconvenient and could get him into trouble but Crowley wasn't going to get emotional over a little maiming and mutilation – unless it affected him directly.

So that only left the possibility that Crowley was upset because he thought that Aziraphale had been caught.

And then there was what happened afterwards, it had been – well, _nice _- no, more than nice. It had felt wonderful to have Crowley in his arms. And there was that spot on his neck that was rather sensitive that Crowley kept nuzzling and it would have been so easy just to lean down and - but it would have been wrong to take advantage of the situation when Crowley was upset and confused.

But it had felt _good. _And oddly right. And it had hurt to have to stop. If only he could be certain that is wasn't just confusion and shock. There might be a slight chance that Crowley felt the same way, but if he didn't - Aziraphale might lose the Arrangement as well and he didn't think he could bear that. No, it was better to continue the way they were.

But for those few minutes, it had been as close to heaven as Aziraphale had been in centuries.

"Why are you blushing, angel?"

Aziraphale put a hand to his face defensively. His cheeks did feel rather warm. "I was thinking about, the other night," he muttered. "You know, at the park."

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "Oh right. When you kissed me."

"I did not kiss you!"

"Yeah, you did. Want to tell me what that was about?"

Aziraphale glared at him. "You were hanging onto me like a limpet, Crowley. You were obviously upset. I was just trying to show you some compassion. I _am _an angel. Don't look at me like that. It wasn't anything _twisted._"

"Did I say I thought it was something twisted? Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"What? Don't be ridiculous. You didn't have to say anything, you old serpent, I know how your mind works."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really!"

NO WAY!

"Aaarggh!"

"Oh goodness, you startled me."

Death grinned. Of course the default expression for a skull is a grin, but this one made you feel that he meant it.

I KNOW. IT WAS VERY AMUSING.

"If you have anything to say, say it and leave," said Crowley. "I don't have time for riddles."

HOW ARE YOU GETTING ON?

"You know we're not doing well," said Aziraphale. "We don't know where it's gone."

THAT IS STRANGE. DOES NOT A DOG ALWAYS RETURN TO ITS MASTER?

"Well it isn't here, is it?" Said Crowley testily. Unless it's hiding in the bathroom.

YOU ARE NOT ITS MASTER. NOT ANYMORE. NOW IT IS IN ITS TRUE FORM IT WILL ONLY ANSWER TO ITS TRUE MASTER. AND THAT IS NEITHER OF YOU.

"Then who?"

They looked at each other, clarity dawning at precisely the same moment.

"Adam!"

***

Pepper woke up around early afternoon and winced. Last night had been 'Pound-per-pint-Thursday', although that name was deceiving. It wasn't just pints that were a pound but all drinks.

Fresher's fortnight was loads of fun, but hell on the liver.

Adam was looking down on her smiling, "Hello, you."

It was nice to be able to stay in bed as long as they wanted, without having to be careful of Adam's parents walking in, ("What am I going to do with you, boy? Do you practically live to torment me? What will the neighbours say?"), or her mum, ("what have told you about boys? Aren't I proof enough that they're only after one thing? No of course I wouldn't take you back, you silly girl! I just want you to learn from my mistakes – you have your whole life ahead of you. Why would you want to go waste it? Or course I don't mean that you ruined my life? You're just putting words in my mouth.").

It was good to just be able to lie there and do whatever, instead of scrambling for clothes and waiting for the best time to sneak down the stairs or weighing up whether it's better to just climb out the window. Or for Adam to have to stumble out of bed at some obscenely early hour (anytime before 10) to walk Dog. Or have Brian and Wensley come over and then she'd feel guilty over having the best of Adam.

In a way she was glad that Wensley and Brian didn't come with them. Wensley going to Oxford to because they had a better physics program and no-one could expect him to turn down _Oxford _after all. And Brian had been unhappy enough with doing A levels. He balked at the mention of university. It had been sad, but she had felt a certain relief. Their foursome had started splintering since they were 16 – this way they could get some much needed space and still stay best friends.

"What are you thinking?" Adam asked.

"It's odd without Wens and Brian."

"We could skip the party on Saturday and go home for the weekend. They'll still be there – Wens doesn't start until next week. Ha! He only has a fresher's week not a fortnight!"

"That's not what I meant. I was thinking that it's odd that I don't miss them that much."

"That is – not that odd I guess," he said thoughtfully. Adam didn't take to change very well. If he could have helped it they would have all stayed together. Pepper figured that it meant he'd grown up when he'd agreed that they all should let go and move on. But she knew how hard it was for him.

"How come you never get hung-over?" she complained, trying to change the subject.

"I guess I can hold my drink better than you can."

"You're sure you're not doing that thing again? Because that would be meddling with your insides."

Adam put his hand over his heart and grimaced in a parody of horror, "Would I do that? You wound me, Pepper. _Wound me!"_

She kicked him playfully. "Oh you know you would." He grabbed her leg and dragged her lower down.

"I'll mess with your insides," he growled and tickled her mercilessly.

She shrieked and wriggled trying to get away. "Stop it. God, Adam, you are _so _evil!"

It ended as most of their play-fights did. It was actually how they'd started.

Afterwards, they lay together quietly, his head tucked under her chin. She liked being able to do that. When did they ever get time in Tadfield?

"Pep?"

"Hmm?"

"You know I love you, yeah?"

She sat up. Adam wasn't usually given to professions of love. "What's up?"

"Nothing's up. Why would anything be up? Can't I tell my girlfriend I love her without anything being up?"

"Anyone else, maybe. Not you." She glared at him. "Well?"

"It's just – ok, here's the thing. I want you to be with me, right – but I wouldn't ever make you be with me."

"I don't understand."

"I might make my hangovers go away sometimes. But I wouldn't make you stay with me if you didn't want to. I don't do that anymore."

"Hey, I trust you!"

"Good. And you love me too?"

She giggled. "Yes, you git."

"And you want to stay with me forever and ever even if you don't have to and are completely free to walk away whenever you so choose?"

"Yes, you soppy idiot, now move a bit, my leg's going to sleep."

He grinned and swung his legs off the bed.

"Hey come back here! What was all that about forever and ever."

"Pep, as tempting as staying in bed all day with you is, I need the loo. Try not to miss me too much!"

She threw a pillow at him.

She sighed and decided that she might as well get up as well. Her head didn't feel so bad now.

"Hydration," she muttered. "That's what I need. And possibly a fry up."

She switched on the TV (some good did come out of Adam generally getting whatever he wanted.) while she put her clothes on. It was almost time for _Neighbours, _anyway.

She looked up with mild surprised when they interrupted this program to bring her a special breaking news report and slowly straightened up with horror, leaving half her buttons undone.

"Adam!" she screamed. "Get out here now. There's something you have to see."

***

"Sweet zombie Jesus, I should have remembered that you can't read a map to save your life!"

"Crowley! That was completely uncalled for!"

"_I'm having a good time – "_

"We're lost. We're well and truly lost."

"Well, maybe if you hadn't been fiddling with that radio and missed our exit!"

"_I'm_ _a shooting star leaping through the sky – "_

"You should have warned me!"

"I did!"

"_Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity – "_

"You did not! You said that our exit would be coming up soon, not in five bloody seconds!"

"It was not - why don't you let me drive and _you _can read the map."

"_I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva – _

"You can't drive, Angel!"

"Well you do it, how hard can it be?"

"_I'm gonna go, go, go there's no stopping me – "_

"Come on Aziraphale, where's your goodwill to all men gone to now. Or maybe you don't think I'm a man?"

"Don't be ridiculous. And you're not a man. What are you _doing_? This is no time to dance!"

"_I'm burning through the sky, yeah – _

"I'm not dancing you idiot, my phone's ringing. Oh fuck, it's Adam. He must have heard. You answer it."

"What? Why should I answer your phone?"

"_Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mr Fahrenheit – "_

"Because I'm driving!"

"That's never stopped you before!"

"_I'm travelling at the speed of light – "_

"You know what? I agree with the song. Let me show you what this baby can really do."

"What?"

"_I'm gonna make a supersonic man out of you –"_

"Bet your little golden halo I am. Hold tight Angel!"

"What are you – for heaven's sake _slow down_!"

"_Don't stop me now!"_

_***_

"Bugger and crap with a cherry on top! He's not picking up, Adam"

They'd been trying for the last half hour, but she could not get hold of Aziraphale.

"No luck with Crowley either," muttered Adam darkly.

"What do you suppose they're up to?"

"I don't know. But they'd better have a fucking good explanation for this."

***

"Terinael, remind me again of why we are lugging this beast half way across the country like a couple of manual labourers?"

"We need to reunite this little fellow with his true master. It's only fair don't you think."

"Little fellow? That's something of an understatement, don't _you_ think?"

"Look, just trust me on this one, ok?"

Ulthar grabbed the steering wheel of the moving van they were in making them swerve off the road.

Terinael squawked, knocked him off and slammed on the breaks. "What is wrong with you?"

"I just think it's curious that you are so reluctant to give up any information. You

can't seriously believe that I would simply sit back and give you a free reign, do you?"

Terinael sighed. "I don't have time for this."

"Then I suggest you talk quickly."

"Fine. In brief. Here's the thing," Terinael huffed testily. "Something should have happened seven years ago, and thank to those two trouble makers, it didn't. The hellhound should have been the trigger. It wasn't. Because its shape was altered somehow _before _it met the Boy. So if confronted with what he should have been confronted with earlier… all I'm saying is it could be a chance to put things _right."_

"Well why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Terinael shrugged. "I like my cards close to my chest."

"And why did we have to wait until _they _left to see the boy?"

"Because I doubt that the Boy will be susceptible. If think we might have to give him a little nudge."

"And what does this have to do with Crowley and his angel friend?"

"The two musketeers? They're plan B."

"How so?"

"Well," Terinael grinned, "Let me tell you about the rumours that I've been hearing."

***

Around four o clock in the afternoon, Adam's head snapped up. "I think they're here. We'd better go and meet them before they disappear again."

"How do you know?"

"I've been listening," he said. And was quiet until they reached what they called the _Sciences. _

They heard Crowley and Aziraphale before they saw them. They were bickering over a University guide book.

"Are you even sure that this is the right university?"

"Shut up, angel. I just need to figure out which residence he's in. What do you reckon? I think Cryfield sounds about right."

"Actually," said Adam. "It's Rootes."

Crowley slapped his forehead and laughed. "Rootes. Of course it is. What else would it be?"

"What have you done to my dog?"

"Can we sit down, somewhere?" said Aziraphale. "I think this might take a while."

***

"Right," said Adam tersely. "And what do you expect me to do about it?"

"Well you can stop it can't you?" said Crowley. "It's your hellhound."

"I gave _him _to you. You're his masters now. I said to him - you do what they say. And obviously they did."

They were sitting in the little café under the library. Pepper thought it was funny how she had spent quite a lot of time in their over the past week but no time at all in the library itself. She supposed that things would change once fresher's fortnight was over and Uni started properly. It was empty right now. Pepper supposed everyone was recovering from the night before.

"Well it should have returned to its master once it had finished. It hasn't come back to us," said Aziraphale.

"Do you see _him _around here? You turned him into a monster. You undo it."

"People have _died -"_

"And you expect me to fix all your messes. Don't you get it? Not meddling means not meddling. If I'm not to use my - my powers then I can't use them at all. That's how it goes."

"Look, kid," said Crowley testily. "This isn't Alcoholics Anonymous or something. You really can quit it at any point."

"And how do _you _know?"

"Adam - " began Pepper.

"No. I won't. You sort out your own messes. I came here to get away from everything. I can't!"

He ran out of the café slamming the door.

"Great," said Crowley. "Now what do we do?"

"I'll talk to him," said Pepper. "He gets like this sometimes. He needs to take responsibility for some things."

As they left the café, the cashier came with them and locked the locked. "Have a good evening," she said pleasantly and went on her way.

"Just wait here," she told them, "I'll be back soon, with Adam I hope. We'll figure this out somehow I guess."

Crowley was looking around. "What building is this?" he asked.

"This is _Sciences," _she said. "That sides chemistry, which leads onto engineering - that's connected to the Library on this side of the road by the covered bridge, and the library leads on to Physics."

"So how do you get in?"

"Through Engineering or the Library? Why is this important?"

"Dunno, have a feeling that's all."

"I'll be going then," she said.

"Thank you," Aziraphale said pleasantly. "You're being very understanding."

She missed the moving van by a fraction of a second. If she'd seen it, it might have saved a lot of trouble later.

***

It was Aziraphale who saw the van.

"Get down!" he hissed and dragged Crowley behind a bush.

"What for?"

"Can't you feel that?"

When he concentrated, Crowley realised he could feel it. It was demonic and whatever it was it was large.

Two people got out of the van and went round the back. The short one who Crowley recognised as Ulthar carried an axe. The taller one, who looked very much like an angel, had a sword.

Aziraphale bristled. "Is that _my _sword?"

Crowley grabbed his arm. "Easy tiger, let's see what they're up to."

"This should be alright," said Ulthar.

"What about the students."

Ulthar sighed and consulted his clipboard. "Term doesn't start properly for another week. This is just to settle the new ones in. This place should be clear. Look it's all locked."

"Very well," said the other. He opened the back of the truck and nodded at Ulthar who ran up the steps to Engineering and opened the doors. The lock wasn't much of a problem.

"Come," said the other angel. Imitating Adam's voice perfectly.

Dog trotted out obediently.

"Now go inside. And kill anything that comes in there."

Once dog was inside Ulthar slammed the door shut and clapped a much bigger padlock on the door. "One of these days you're going to have to tell me where you got that sedative. Worked a charm. But I must say I'd be worried if we hadn't got these."

"Hmm," said the Angel, "We cut it pretty close. I doubt it'll last another half hour. And even these wouldn't do you much good then."

"Ah me," said Ulthar. "It's a good thing we have me for time keeping then."

"Indeed. Now should we split up and find a temporary resting place for them? We shall reconvene as planned."

"No time like the present, is what I always say."

"To each his own?" whispered Aziraphale.

"No," hissed Crowley. "You take mine, I'll take yours. This way we can say we were thwarting the enemy."

"Do you think that will work?"

"It's better than the alternative, besides, you could quite happily be guilt tripped by a superior angel into confessing all your sins."

"I'm not that bad!"

"We don't have _time. _Look, hurry up. Try and get that axe and meet me back here ASAP, ok?"

"Fine," whispered Aziraphale, "Good luck."

Crowley followed the other Angel to a block of residential buildings. The sign post said "Arthur Vick."

Wonderful, he thought, I don't even get to see the famous Rootes after all that.

He waited a couple of minutes after the door swung closed and then unlocked it. (With his mind, not a key) He could hear the Angel talking further down. It sounded like he was using a mobile phone.

"… well that's the best case scenario… to be honest I don't think the Boy will be persuaded… well at least worth a shot… yes well, I don't think Aziraphale will be able to stop himself… oh come now, we're not talking just an angry dog here, we have a barghest! A hellhound… have you seen what one can do? … Yes well, I suppose not… even _if_ he does survive, I should still have enough to make a case against him… "

Crowley stiffened when he heard Aziraphale's name. This didn't sound good. The Angel walked into a room that said it was a kitchen.

"Look, everyone has been entirely too forgiving of Aziraphale from the beginning. Oh he's only doing his job like a good angel should. If he _had_ been doing his job in the first place then we wouldn't have a problem. .. He's coming close to flouting the rules… disobedience like you wouldn't believe… one way or the other I have him now and I intend to make him wish he'd never been Created… hang on, my signal's cutting out."

Crowley backed against the wall and held his breath as the door swung open. He heaved a sigh of relief as the Angel walked off in the other direction. He slipped quietly into the kitchen and saw that the sword had been _left on the table. _

It was entirely too convenient, but he could hear footsteps coming back.

Crowley lifted up the sword and slid behind the door. It crackled in his palms as if it knew that he wasn't worthy enough to wield it.

As soon as the other angel entered Crowley slammed him against the wall and had the sword against his neck faster than you could say Apocalypse.

The angel's eyes widened. "I know you," he said. "I remember you, Anthony Crowley. Before you fell. Back when you were called -" he said Crowley's real name.

Crowley winced. "Terinael," he said softly, "I should have known. What other angel would be this twisted?"

Terinael laughed. "And here you are. Grappling with a sword trying to help a washed out old angel fight off an angry doggy. How the mighty have fallen."

"Shut up," said Crowley roughly and shoved the blade deeper against Terinael's neck. A few bright drops of blood appeared. "You're going to tell me how to stop it. Or I'll have your head."

"That won't kill me, you know."

"No," Crowley sighed and dropped the Sword. He reached into a back pocket and pulled out a small dagger. "But this will."

"Really? That little thing? The only way that would work is if I died laughing."

"It's a cursed blade. Forged in the fires of hell." he poked it in Terinael's ribs. "Think I'm bluffing, just try pushing me."

"Ah," Terinael looked rather thoughtful. "That would certainly do it."

"Yeah, it would, so are you going to play nice?"

"Very well, name your terms."

"First you tell me how to stop the hellhound. Second, you leave Aziraphale alone, for good. Got it?"

"Why do you care about Aziraphale?"

"We go back a long way."

Terinael smiled in a way that chilled Crowley's blood. "Is that all? I'll tell you what, little snake; I'll help you with the dog. But Aziraphale is mine."

Crowley punched him. "This is not a negotiation."

Terinael wiped the blood of his lip and sniggered. "Oh, this is rich. Do you _care _for your little friend, Crowley? Aziraphale needs to be taught what happens to those who stray from their path. He needs to repent and he can't do that unless he is punished. It's for his own good."

Crowley dragged him up by his collar and held the dagger close to his face. "You let me decide what's best for Aziraphale," he hissed. "You're going to promise to leave him alone. Or I'll put this through your eye."

Terinael looked into Crowley's eyes for a moment and burst out laughing. "This is too good to be true! You're in love with him, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes. This is the funniest thing I've heard in centuries."

Crowley froze and then shoved the angel away from himself roughly knocking him to the ground. "So what if I am? I can still kill you."

"And what good would that do? You won't know how to stop that dog, and you need me alive to alter my notes."

"Your _what?"_

"My report notes. You see I've recommended that Aziraphale be disciplined. I haven't submitted it yet, but it is on my desk. If I die, my successor will simply finish the job."

Crowley felt his heart drop into his shoes. "You - you can't." he said defeated. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

"Hasn't he?" Terinael smirked. "Would you like me to send you the memo? It's over a foot long."

"Aziraphale wouldn't willingly hurt a fly and you know it. Anything he might have done wrong, you - he - "Crowley thought fast, "probably had something to do with _me. _I'm sure it was my fault. You can't punish him for that."

"So he was weak. We do not tolerate weakness."

"You're supposed to be the bloody _good _side!" Crowley screamed desperately. "Are you supposed to be all about forgiveness? He won't do it again. I- if I stay away from him, he'll be free of my influence and I swear I'll keep away from him. I'll put in a transfer request as soon as this is over!"

Terinael looked thoughtful. "I don't think I've ever heard of a demon falling in love with an angel before. You really care for him?"

"I've just fucking said I do, 'ent I?" Crowley's grammar went to pieces when he was agitated.

"Then I suggest you give me that blade," Terinael held his hand out triumphantly. Crowley gave it over and sat down. He felt horribly tired.

"Useful little thing," said Terinael approvingly. "I'm sure it will come in handy." he pocketed it.

"What now?" asked Crowley wearily.

"Now, little serpent, I shall show you how forgiving I can be. I shall make a deal with you, on my terms. I will help your beloved angel, undeserving though he may be, dispose of that awful creature and then allow him to continue on his merry way, _if _you do a little thing for me."

"What?"

"Tell me, Crowley. What would you do to save your angel?"

Crowley looked down at his hands, not wanting to look at Terinael's smirking face. "Anything," he whispered.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Terinael sounded delighted. "I am happy to fulfil all your demands, Crowley, and all you have to do in return is drink this."

Crowley looked up sharply. Terinael held a little glass bottle.

"What's that," Crowley asked faintly, although he had an inkling of what it might be. Terinael always had a twisted sense of humour.

"Holy water, of course. Do you think you're the only one who carries weapons that will destroy the enemy?"

"But a drop of that is enough to liquidate a demon."

"This is true."

"And you want me to drink a bottleful?"

"It's only fair, don't you think? Your life for his." Terinael sneered at him. "Maybe the pain will make you repent your treason. It's for your own good you see."

"Right. And this has nothing to do with you being a sadistic bastard?"

Terinael stopped smiling. "Well if you're afraid, you don't have to do it. But our deal's off."

Crowley looked him in the eye. "I am afraid," he said honestly. "But I'll do it. Do I have your word?"

"I swear it. On the father, the son and the holy spirit."

"Good," Crowley got up. His hands were shaking. "Give me the bottle, you pompous wanker."

Terinael held it out. Crowley opened it and hesitated.

"Tell Aziraphale - tell him - tell him - fuck it, I can't think of anything. Think of something good. Tell him I said it."

Terinael patted his back in a parody of sympathy. "I could always tell him you said you loved him."

"Yeah," said Crowley. "That'll have to do, I guess. Well, bottom's up. "

He took a deep breath, screwed his eyes shut and downed the bottle.

***

Ulthar led Aziraphale to a row of tall white flats. "Rootes residences," he muttered under his breath. "What else?"

Aziraphale always kept some holy water on him. You never know when it might come in handy. He crept along the corridors following Ulthar at what he hoped was a discrete enough distance until Ulthar ducked into a kitchen.

He pulled out his bottle, uncorked it and walked quietly after Ulthar.

You wouldn't think it to look at him, because he looked mild and soft and was a bit pudgier than he should have been, but Aziraphale could be pretty fast when he wanted to. Ulthar had barely time to look up before Aziraphale had his neck in a chokehold and the bottle up his left nostril.

"I'd advise you not to move." Aziraphale said, feeling quite pleased with himself. "You know a drop of this could kill you. Tell me what I want to know and I might let you live"

"Cad you dake it out of by dose, please?"

Aziraphale lowered it a couple of inches. "Fine. Now talk, scum!"

"If you've finished playing cowboy, maybe you can tell me what it is I'm supposed to talk about?" Aziraphale could practically hear Ulthar rolling his eyes.

"Yes, right, of course. The hellhound. How do we stop it?"

"There's an axe in the cupboard under the sink. Cursed, made from iron from the core of the earth, forged in the fires of hell, you know the sort. It won't kill the beast, but it _can _hurt it. Which would make it easier to control I dare say."

"Good," said Aziraphale, "It's so much easier when we all cooperate. Now I'm going to let you go now. But if you try anything funny, I will throw this at you. I've been told I have a very good aim."

Aziraphale let go of Ulthar's neck and backed towards the cupboard, keeping his eyes and the bottle on Ulthar. He pulled the axe out and nodded to the demon. "Well if you'll excuse me, I have to go and save the world. Please don't try to follow me."

"You know, said Ulthar conversationally, to Aziraphale's back. "It's such a shame about poor Crowley. I shall so _hate _to have him seen to but the poor fellow just has so many black marks on his records that it's unavoidable."

Aziraphale turned around slowly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, there's this business with the hellhound. And then consorting with the likes of your very good self, it is frowned upon to be frank, and saving the world. It's just not the sort of _image _that we want to be associated with."

"What will you do to him?"

"Don't let that bother you, my good sir. He's only a demon. Why don't you just run along? I hear there's a world that needs saving."

Aziraphale gripped the axe so tight his knuckles turned white. "He's not just any demon. He's my demon, so you tell me what you're planning to do with him or there won't be anything left of you to talk."

Ulthar nodded musingly. "Yes, I remember you now. You were the angel with the fiery sword. Demoted for misplacing it. It was thought, in retrospect that you were too soft I believe, but I can see why you were chosen in the first place."

"I asked you a question," Aziraphale snarled.

"I am not in charge of sentencing and punishment. I simply write my reports and recommendations. It might interest you to know that I have recommended that Crowley be shown no lenience."

"Then you can just unrecommend it!"

"Impossible to do so here, I'm afraid. My reports are back at my office under lock and key with over two dozen security demons guarding the premises. All for the look out for angelic presences, as well as other interference. If you tried to stage some sort of coop I fear you wouldn't stand a chance." The demon smiled nastily. "You might as well, accept it, Crowley is done for."

Aziraphale looked down, "No," he said thickly, "there has to be some way."

"And why would you care?"

Aziraphale looked up at him. "I care," he said quietly. "I care because I can't not."

Ulthar looked like the fog had suddenly lifted. "I see. There were always rumours but no one believed them. An angel and a demon? It's ludicrous. And does _your _demon feel the same way? Do you think he wouldn't hesitate to throw you to the lions if it was the other way around?"

"Crowley isn't like that," snapped Aziraphale. Everything was suddenly very clear. "And even if he is. I don't care. You don't understand love. I love him, and it doesn't matter whether he does or not."

"Fascinating," Ulthar's voice dripped with sarcasm. "But it would seem that I have something that you want so I would be much obliged, Aziraphale, if you would put that bottle down."

Aziraphale put the bottle on the floor. "What do you want?"

"Nothing that is beyond your grasp to give. A simple trade off, after all that is only fair. Your soul for his."

Aziraphale nodded. "Jolly good," he said dully. "I was expecting something like that." He walked over to Ulthar and handed the axe back. "Go on then."

"I believe you are misunderstanding me. I said your soul, not your life."

Aziraphale looked up puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Answer me this. To save _your _demon. What are you willing to do?"

"What?"

"What are you willing to do, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale closed his eyes. "For Crowley? Anything."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Ulthar walked over to the counter and started to make three cups of tea. Aziraphale watched him disbelievingly. "What are you doing?"

"I do believe young Adam Young -" Ulthar paused to snicker, "- sng, sng, sng, young Adam Young, oh, sometimes I kill myself."

"If you don't get to the point, I'll happily do it for you," Aziraphale said through gritted teeth.

"Temper, temper. What would Terinael say? You're in enough trouble already, my friend. Ah yes, Adam will be along with his lady friend. I have been watching them closely; they will come in here for there to partake in their supper before embarking on an evening of high jinks and tomfoolery. When they come in, in approximately two to five minutes, you shall offer them this tea."

"I shall offer them tea?" Aziraphale repeated. "What's the catch?"

"No catch, good sir, no catch. Just to see that they do indeed drink it. And that you indeed drink it. And that you shall add a couple of drops of this concoction of my own devising"

"What is it?"

"Just an ordinary poison. Nothing to write home about."

"Poison? You must be out of your mind! I can't do that!" Aziraphale was horrified.

"Can't you? That's a far cry from anything, isn't it?"

"They're innocent." Aziraphale said, faintly, desperately. "They haven't done anything wrong."

"And neither have you. But why do you think I care. It's your choice. If they are innocent they will go to their just reward." Ulthar smiled widely, Aziraphale could have counted every tooth in his mouth. "And you will go to yours. As I said, Aziraphale, I want your soul, not your life."

"I can't." Aziraphale said brokenly. "I can't."

"Then Crowley is mine. So much for love, eh Angel?"

Angel. That's what Crowley called him. And only Crowley could make that one word sound like both an insult and an endearment. Aziraphale closed his eyes and moved his lips for a second as if in prayer.

When he opened them again they were weary, yet determined. "Give me the bottle," he said hoarsely.

"Well, well, isn't this curious."

"Now!"

Ulthar handed it over. Aziraphale could feel his soul splintering as he poured the a few drops in each cup.

"Crowley," he whispered to himself. "After this you really do owe me one."

***

Crowley swallowed the contents of the bottle and braced himself for agonising pain.

Nothing happened.

"What - what - why am I still alive?"

Terinael laughed. Happy peals that resounded off the walls and into Crowley's head.

"It was tap water," he choked out. "You've just drunk tap water. Hoo boy! 'Tell Aziraphale that I love him' I almost died trying not to laugh."

"Ha ha," said Crowley feeling foolish. "I'm glad you're so happy, do you mind telling me what was the point of making me go through that if it was just tap water."

Terinael sobered down. "It may have only been tap water. But that isn't the point, is it? You thought it was Holy water. You didn't die, but you _would _have."

"Right," said Crowley. "I told you I'd do anything."

"And you do love him."

"Yes."

Terinael nodded. "Does he feel the same way?"

Crowley looked away. "I don't know. Doesn't matter though. 'Snot what it's about it is?"

"Indeed it isn't" Terinael looked thoughtful. "You know, they say that there is no greater love that that for which a man would lay down his life for his friend."

"Yeah? I don't really want to talk about it."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. But you did keep your side of the bargain so I shall keep mine." Terinael picked up the sword and handed it to Crowley. "Give this to your Angel. He'll know what to do."

"And you'll stay away from him."

"I swore it, didn't I? I just hope he's worth it."

"Oh he's worth it," Crowley muttered. "He's just a bit of a bastard sometimes. But he's my bastard. So that's alright."

"Keep up like this and you'll be well on your way to ascending. Now wouldn't that be nice?"

Crowley looked at him is mock horror. "A fate surely worth than death. Just because I love the idiot doesn't mean I'm going to be all puppies and sunshine."

"Are you so sure about that? Well run along. I believe you have a hellhound to deal with. I hope to see you again in better circumstances.

"Fuck you." sneered Crowley heading for the door.

"Quite. And Crowley? You might want to tell Aziraphale some of this. Life's too short."

***

Pepper was a couple of steps behind Adam so when he stopped abruptly she walked into him.

"What the - What's wrong Adam?"

She looked around him to see Aziraphale, sitting at the kitchen table. He looked like he was expecting them, he had tea all laid out.

"Aziraphale?" asked Adam. "What are you doing here?"

Aziraphale lifted his head up, Pepper caught sight of his face and gasped. There was something dreadful there, something cracked and broken about his expression.

"What's wrong?" Adam stepped forward hurriedly. "Is it Crowley? Is it -?"

Aziraphale laughed hollowly. "Yes I suppose it is Crowley. Would you sit down? This - this will take some explaining."

They sat down, Pepper felt rather worried. They'd always wondered if Aziraphale and Crowley were more than just occasional friends who sometimes saved the world together. Well, ok not they - _she _had always wondered. Aziraphale looked so cut up - it must be true.

"Tea?" asked Aziraphale. "You take it with three sugars and far too much milk," he pushed one to Adam. "And you my dear, take it with lemon and honey, am I right?"

Pepper smiled, trying to reassure him - she wasn't sure what of exactly - "Yes, Mr Fell, that's right."

"I remembered," he murmured.

"What's wrong?" Adam repeated.

"What would you do?" Aziraphale asked distractedly. "If something happened to her?"

"What?"

"If something happened to her? If someone threatened her? You'd do everything you could to stop it, wouldn't you?"

"Aziraphale," said Adam gently, "Has something happened to Crowley?"

"_Wouldn't you?"_

"Yes, of course he would," Pepper said reaching out for Aziraphale's clasped hands. "And I would for him. When you love someone that's what you do."

As soon as she touched them, Aziraphale violently jerked his hands away. "Don't do that," he said harshly and then continued in a rush. "Yes, yes. That's what I thought. That's why I thought you'd understand."

"Understand what?" said Adam. Pepper could tell that he was getting impatient but was trying to make an effort. "Aziraphale, you're not making any sense."

The angel shook his head a couple of times and looked at them. "You're not drinking your tea. Is there something wrong with it? I haven't mixed you up with the other two, have I?"

"No, nothing like that, but -"

"Then hurry now, no point in waiting until it gets cold."

Adam shrugged and then nodded at Pepper. She agreed silently, it was probably best to humour Aziraphale. She wondered if demons could die and then hoped not. If Crowley had died because Adam refused to help… she didn't think Adam would forgive himself.

They sipped their teas quickly. Too quickly. Pepper burnt her tongue and coughed. "It's great," she said. "Just the way I like it. You always do remember."

"Yeah," said Adam. "It's cracking good tea. But you're beginning to worry me. Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or what?"

Aziraphale looked miserable. "It was nothing personal, you know," he said wretchedly. "I didn't have a choice." He sounded close to tears.

"Aziraphale?"

The angel picked up his cup and drained it. "For what it's worth," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

There was a peal of unpleasant laughter from one of the cupboards.

Adam ran over to it and pulled a strange little man from it. "Adam Young," said the man. "I do not believe we have had the pleasure. I am known as Ulthar. Would you like to know what dear Aziraphale put in your tea?"

Pepper glanced over at the Angel, who was stared ahead, his eyes blank. "What?" she asked her heart pounding.

"A few drops of good old tap water."

"_WHAT?" _Aziraphale got to his feet looking both relieved and horrified. It was a terrible expression. "You mean you tricked me?"

"It would appear so," said Ulthar.

"So - so - I didn't -"

"Ah, but you thought you did, Aziraphale. And that makes all the difference."

Aziraphale made a tortured, strangled sound and dropped to his knees, his face wet.

Ulthar reached into the cupboard and pulled out an axe, which he handed to the sorry figure in the centre of the kitchen. "Take this," he said. "Crowley will know what to do with it. And as per our bargain he need not worry about me again. Good luck, Aziraphale, I enjoyed doing business with you."

Aziraphale nodded and got to his feet shakily. He tottered unsteadily to the door.

"Oh and Aziraphale?" Ulthar had the nastiest smile Pepper had ever seen. "The way you're going - sng, sng, sng - let's just say, there will always be room for you, down below."

Aziraphale let out something that sounded like a sob and then turned and ran.

"Masterfully done," said a voice from the corridor. A dazzlingly beautiful man stepped into the kitchen. He had Angel written all over him, but there was something wrong with his smile. It was as beautiful as the rest of him but in its own way it was just as nasty as Ulthar's.

"Why thank you," said Ulthar. "And how did you fair with Crowley?"

"It went off without a hitch. In fact I believe he may have put up less of a fight that Aziraphale did."

Adam got to his feet. "I don't know who you are," he said quietly, dangerously. "But if someone doesn't tell me what is going on right this second I am going to get very, very angry."

***

Crowley ran into Aziraphale outside the engineering building. They could hear Dog bashing himself against the walls trying to get out. Hooray for civil engineers, thought Crowley. When they build a fireproof, earthquake proof building they do get the job done.

He felt almost optimistic until he saw Aziraphale's face. "They got you to do something, didn't they?" he asked.

Aziraphale rubbed a hand over his face, maybe wiping away tears, maybe something else. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Not anymore. I'm here. You're here. And if we live through this they'll leave us alone."

"We probably won't though, live through this. You know that right?"

Aziraphale nodded. "I know." He laughed, "Here we are at the end of the world again, or at least the end of our lives and I still can't. Crowley -" he hesitated. "If - if we do - don't - you, you do know that -"

Crowley took the hand that wasn't currently clutching the incredibly large axe. "Hey," he said, squeezing it, "I know. You know too, yeah?"

Aziraphale stared at him blankly for a second. Crowley dropped his sword and kissed him on the mouth, firmly. It was only for a few moments, they didn't have time for that sort of thing, but Crowley thought it could say it better than words would. He broke off and shook Aziraphale's shoulder. "You do know? "

Then Aziraphale smiled. A real smile, not the tired, weary ones that Crowley had been getting lately. It had been an age since he had seen Aziraphale smile like that. He'd go to hell and back, to _heaven _and back, anywhere, if he could be sure of seeing that smile again.

"I do now." said Aziraphale, his voice sounded stronger, more confident than it had been in days. "This is for you."

Crowley took the Axe. He hadn't used one before but he knew what it was. "Well, hello," he said softly. "And where did this little beauty come from?"

"The same place you got that I reckon," said Aziraphale pointing to the sword. "Is that for me?" He picked up the sword without waiting for an answer and turned it around. "Maybe I'll actually get to use it this time."

Crowley laughed. "I'd forgotten," he said. "You still up for a bit of divine retribution and all that jazz."

"No," said Aziraphale, "But I feel better knowing you'll have my back."

Dog howled from inside. Somewhere around Physics, thought Crowley. They didn't have long now. Soon Dog would find a weak spot and get out.

"We'd better - "he began at the same time Aziraphale said, "We should -"

"I'll take the library, said Aziraphale. "It's only fitting."

"That leaves me with engineering" said Crowley. "Right. I'll see you later. Wings out, do you think?"

Aziraphale nodded. Seams ripped. Coats and shirts tore and they were in their own shapes again.

Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed Crowley's mouth softly. "See you on the other side."

***

The explanation didn't take very long. Pepper felt numb afterwards. "I can't believe he poisoned us."

"He didn't," said Adam tersely. "So no harm done. But it's nothing I wouldn't have done. Not if I thought they would hurt you." His voice was angry.

"It was wrong," said Pepper. "Whatever reason, I mean ok, I know he thought they'd hurt Crowley but -"

"Hurt him? Do you have any idea what they do to you in hell?"

"Of course not," she replied hotly. "Do you?"

"You forget who I am," his voice was different. Higher pitched. The Voice that could make things happen. "And it aint fair. It aint fair that people should go around meddling with other people's feelings. You shouldn't have to make the sort of choices that destroy who you are. And both sides like to play each other. Where's the justice in that? Nothing's ever straightforward in this world; no one ever gives it to you straight. It's always this is the great plan or the ineffable plan and they don't care who gets hurt. It aint _fair."_

Thunder rumbled outside. Pepper felt scared, her heart was beating hard enough to break out of her chest and she felt nauseous. Chills were marching up and down her spine the way they had last done 7 years ago. She looked at the two others in the room. They were watching Adam with keen, greedy expressions.

She walked up to Adam and took his clenched fists in her hands. "Don't." she said, the calm in her voice masking her panic. "Don't you see that's what all of this is about? They want you to lose it. You were better than that seven years ago, and you're better than that now."

Adam blinked. His hands unclenched. He held her hands and when he looked into her eyes he was her Adam again. "Where would I be without you, Pep?" he said.

She laughed with relief. "Where would the world be without me, you mean?" she said shakily.

Adam grinned at her and then glared at _them. _"Get out of here. If I see you again I'll end you."

"This is very touching," said Ulthar, looking sour. "But it doesn't matter. Those two will be dead soon. And even if we didn't win the war, we shall have this battle at least."

He vanished. Terinael smiled. "You might make it in time," he said. "If you run."

Adam kissed Pepper, briefly but with feeling and ran out of the room.

Pepper stared at Terinael, who shrugged, winked at her and disappeared. She screamed at the insanity of it all and then ran to the library as fast as she could.

***

For all the noise Dog had been making beforehand it was now deathly quiet. Crowley had never realised how spooky a University could be at night. He'd never really been inside a University at night but that wasn't the point. He'd missed out on millennia of potential. Too late now.

The two brief kisses with Aziraphale had been sweet and full of promise. Not nearly enough for seven thousand years of missed chances. Too late there as well though.

Crowley felt suddenly furious. This was stupid. He wasn't going to die. He'd faced worst than a bloody hellhound. He'd been through far too much to pack it all in right now just when it was about to get really good. Not now that he actually _had _his angel.

He'd had enough of cowering in the dark. If he was going to die it wasn't going to be creeping about waiting for this creature to strike. It would be on his terms. He grit his teeth and ran the axe over the radiators pipes. They clanged loudly as they fell to the floor.

"Where are you, you great beast?" he shouted. "I'm right here. What are you waiting for? Or are you afraid you sad little puppy? Is that it? Are you afraid? Well you should be, because your Uncle Crowley is about to go medieval on your arse!"

There was a growling noise to his left.

"Heh," said Crowley, feeling he might have made a bit of a mistake. "I suppose we can't talk about this over tea and a dog biscuit?"

Dog snarled.

"Thought not," said Crowley. "Oh well, worth a shot."

He grit his teeth, hefted his axe and charged.

***

Aziraphale stared at the books. He hoped he wouldn't have to fight in the library itself. It would be a shame to have to ruin them all.

He heard Crowley shouting and almost bit his lip off. "The fool," he whispered through bloodied lips. "What does he think he's doing?"

Then he heard some sort of battle cry and a loud yelp. He ran towards the noise, heart thudding in his chest.

"You idiot, Crowley," he panted. "If you die on me I'll kill you."

He skidded round a corner. Dog had Crowley's left leg in its teeth, there was blood on Crowley's face. Crowley still had the axe gripped in both hands, white knuckled, he was hacking at the leg that had him pinned down.

Aziraphale could see that the paw was injured, but it didn't seem to be having much effect. Dog jerked Crowley roughly. There was a loud snap as Crowley's leg broke.

It was Crowley's scream that brought Aziraphale back to life. He bolted as fast as he could and slashed the sword at Dog's neck aiming for the kill. He was going too fast to be able to aim so he missed and cut a ragged gash under the hellhound's ear.

Dog whined loudly and then swiped at Aziraphale with his good paw, batting him to the ground, knocking the sword out of his out. Before he could get up it bounded over and bit down on his wing.

Aziraphale had never broken a wing before. It snapped back, almost splintering. For a second he felt nothing and then as Dog started to swing him around, he started to. It was worse than anything he'd ever felt. Blood and feathers dripped down onto his face.

Dog flung him against a wall, he crashed awkwardly. He was vaguely aware of his ankle slamming into the floor, that was another break he thought, but it was nothing compare to how his wing felt.

He looked up, weakly. Dog advanced slowly, holding its injured paw awkwardly. Its eyes were bloodshot and mad.

Crowley lunged in front of him, leaning on the Sword. He waved the axe wildly. "Yipeekayay motherfucker!"

He landed a blow with the flat of the Axe on Dog's nose. It yelped, deafeningly loud and turned and ran, looking for all the world like an oversized puppy.

Crowley laughed weakly and dropped to the ground next to Aziraphale. "The one way to get rid of a dog. Whack it on the nose. Never fails. So when you said it had been a long time since you wielded a sword, you really meant it, huh?"

Aziraphale snorted. "Yipeekayay motherfucker?"

"Die Hard." said Crowley. "Film. Bruce Willis. Always wanted to say that. You ok?"

Aziraphale sat up and winced. "Not particularly. How's your leg?"

"Broken," Crowley coughed, covering his mouth with his hands. His fingers came away blood flecked. "Fuck. I must have punctured a lung. It'll come back, this is just temporary. Can you walk?"

"I doubt it," said Aziraphale. "My ankle's broken. Can't fly either, Crowley. I think I'm done for."

Crowley reached up and stroked Aziraphale wing. "Ow! Don't do that!"

Crowley looked contrite. "Sorry, I didn't mean -"

"It's fine." Aziraphale took Crowley's hand in both of his. "Look Crowley, you can get out of here. You can still fly -"

Crowley looked away. "I'm not leaving you," he said shortly.

"Crowley!"

"No!"

He dropped the axe and cupped Aziraphale's face with his free hand. "Listen you stupid bugger. I'm not leaving you. Not ever. Endof."

There was a snuffling slobbering noise. Dog had returned and it looked angrier than ever. It snarled baring its teeth.

This is stupid, Aziraphale wanted to say. There's no point sacrificing yourself for me, Crowley. It's stupid and pointless and it isn't _fair. _But he found he couldn't say anything. He just held on to Crowley and hoped that he knew how much he loved him.

Out of the shadows came a clear ringing voice. "_Bad Dog! Stop it! Right now!"_

Dog stopped, its teeth inches away from Aziraphale's face. It growled puzzled.

Adam stepped into view. The air around him crackled with power. His eyes were ablaze.

"Stop it!" he repeated. Aziraphale found himself trembling. This was a voice to be obeyed. He had no doubt that voice could make rivers change their course and turn mountains back into mole hills.

"Bad Dog! What have I told you about attacking people? You've been very very bad!"

Dog whined and hung its head. It held up its injured paw and whimpered.

"It's no more than you deserve," said Adam. "Bad, naughty dog!"

He walked up to the huge bulking creature and put a hand on its muzzle. "Go back to what you were," he whispered. "You are _Dog!"_

It shrunk. The air clapped. And all that was left was a small ordinary mongrel.

"That's it?" said Crowley outraged. "We almost died and you could have done that at any point all along?"

"No," said Adam, he bent down next to them. "I only just realised that I could."

The pain in Aziraphale's wing suddenly vanished. It unbent and straighten of its own accord. He tested his ankle. That was fine as well. Crowley got to his feet and helped him up.

"Everything's back to normal?" asked Aziraphale. "All those people?"

"Good as new," said Adam. "Even Hastur."

Crowley made a face.

Adam looked into Aziraphale's eyes. "I can make you forget if you want."

It was one of the hardest things he'd had to do, looking into those bright blue blazing eyes. "No," he said. "I'll keep it. As my penance. I'm sorry. It doesn't make up for it but I'm sorry." He looked away.

"I know," said Adam. "And you're right, it isn't ok. But it is alright. I forgive you."

"What are you talking about," said Crowley.

"Nothing," said Adam.

"Hmph. But you know what? It doesn't matter. Because we're alive." He laughed and grabbed Aziraphale's arms. "What do you think of that Angel? The deux ex machina to end all deux ex machinas." He swung Aziraphale around. "We're alive and I have you and I don't intend to let you go."

He kissed Aziraphale. It was rather clumsy and a little awkward because of the angle and their teeth clashed together at first but Aziraphale thought that it was the best kiss in the world.

At some point they managed to wrap their arms around each other properly. Aziraphale hadn't had much experience but he held on and went for it. And in that moment nothing else did matter.

He had Crowley, and that was all that was important. It didn't matter who was watching or what tomorrow would bring.

Everything had been worth that one moment. He loved Crowley and Crowley loved him and that was all that would ever matter.

***

By the time Pepper got there it was all over. The damage had all been put right and Dog was a silly little mongrel again. Adam knelt by him and scratched his ears absently while he watched the Angel and the Demon who were far too caught up in each other to pay any attention to what was going on.

She laid a hand on Adams shoulder and he smiled up at her.

"So you put things right again?"

"Looks that way," he said.

"Are those two alright?"

"They'll be fine. At least I hope so. I think Aziraphale might have a few things to get over."

HE'LL BE ALRIGHT. CROWLEY WILL HELP HIM FORGET. LOVE'S FUNNY THAT WAY.

Pepper jumped. Death was one thing she would never get used to.

"You think so?"

I HAVE SEEN IT. WHEN ALL YOU HAVE IS TIME YOU REALISE THAT ANGELS, DEMONS, PEOPLE - ALL OF THEM ARE THE SAME WHEN IT COMES DOWN TO IT.

"What about Dog?" asked Pepper.

"I'll have to drop out and look after him," said Adam. "He's too dangerous for anyone else."

"That isn't fair," said Pepper.

"No," said Adam philosophically. "It isn't, but that's the way it is."

AHEM!

"Yes?"

I HAVE ALWAS BEEN MORE OF A CAT PERSON. I LIKE CATS. BUT I DO NOT DISLIKE DOGS.

"Are you sure you could handle him?"

HE IS A PROBLEM IF YOU TRY AND TURN HIM INTO SOMETHING ELSE. I WOULD NOT HAVE THAT PROBLEM. I HAVE NO WISHES. I KNOW THAT THERE IS NO JUSTICE.

Adam nodded. "Well if you're sure."

I AM SURE. WHAT SAY YOU, LITTLE BARGHEST? WOULD YOU LIKE TO ACCOMPANY ME ON MY DUTY?

Dog barked and jumped up happily. It had been a long week. Passed from master to master. But he had a good feeling about this one.

Pepper looked worriedly at Aziraphale and Crowley. "Don't they have to breathe?"

NO.

Adam laughed and slung an arm over her shoulder. "Come on Pep, Let's leave them to it. I reckon it's been a long time coming for them."

He looked up at Death. "Take care of him."

OF COURSE.

And they were gone.

Adam yawned. "Let's get to back to halls," said Pepper. "Big day tomorrow. It's the tequila slammer and I intend to drink you under the table."

"You're on," said Adam and they left.

Pepper chanced a last look over her shoulder at the still entwined forms behind them.

"Adam?"

"What?"

"Is it weird if I think those two together are sorta hot?"

"…"

* * *

**Epilogue**

_Crowley likes Christmas and so does Aziraphale. Both for different reasons. _

_Crowley likes the tensions running high and the hot tempers. He likes the chaos that is Christmas shopping that starts about six weeks before the actual day and gets busier, angrier and more chaotic with every passing day. _

_He likes how people spend far too much – more than they can afford – and then worry about it. He likes how they all try to outdo each other with gifts. He likes the resentment when people don't receive gifts that are as good as the ones that they have given. _

_He likes the stress of the Christmas lunch. The need for everything thing to be perfect but the certainty that it will be anything but. He likes the rows after dinner and how everyone will drink too much and say things they don't mean and some other things that they do mean but shouldn't have said. _

_For all the other side might like to claim Christmas as their own, Crowley truly believes that it's all about commercialism and the season of greed and excess. _

_Aziraphale like how people come together. It doesn't matter if they haven't spoken in six months, or how busy their job is, they all make the time to see their family on this most special of days. _

_He likes how they send cards to everyone they know, sending goodwill and best wishes. Letting others know that they are remembered if only for a brief moment and that they mattered enough to spend on a card and postage. _

_He likes how they put so much effort into their presents. How there will always be presents – whatever they can afford - even if they can't afford it. He believes that it's the thought that counts and believes that people know it too. _

_And he likes the wonder about it, the hopeful anticipation and delight of the yearly visit from Father Christmas. He likes how parents are proud to see their little ones perform in their first nativity play and how excited the children are. He likes how they come together to sing carols. _

_And as much as Crowley likes to insist that Christmas is all about excess and materialism, he knows that it really is the season for goodwill on earth. _

_There is, however, one thing that they both agree on. Christmas should be spent with the people you love. _

_They have a long way to go. There are some marks that do not rub off easily and some scars that take a long time to heal. But time is a great healer and after all, as the song goes - _

_All you need is love. _

**THE END**


End file.
